Motion to Suppress
by DaisyDay
Summary: A love story. A suspenseful tale. I combined both story genres to write a romantic thriller with Mike and Connie. Enchantment! Yearnings! Intrigue! Car chases! Mike Cutter with a gun. swoon!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters are from the Law and Order universe.

Mike and Connie embark on an unexpected deadly adventure.

LAW AND ORDER

MOTION TO SUPPRESS

Chapter 1

It was a regular day at the New York DA's office. Like clockwork, office employees sauntered back and forth between the various oak paneled offices. The number of workers dwindled as night approached.

But for EADA Mike Cutter and ADA Connie Rubirosa, the regular workday at the office had shifted into a regular work-night at the office.

They were once again in Mike's office going over various cases as other state employees went home to their families.

Mike had ordered Chinese food again and the boxes of moo shoo pork, and shrimp fried rice, along with egg rolls, were scattered throughout his desk, as well as a caseload of papers and files.

For two straight hours they discussed which cases needed paperwork to be filed for searches, seizures or arrests. After discussing case after case, Connie had picked up the last file.

"Finally, the last one!" Mike sounded relieved as he picked up a shrimp with his chopsticks.

"Not sure if we could ever prosecute this case," Connie took a bite of the egg roll as she looked through the file, "but Lupo and Bernard specifically requested that we take a look at it. After they interviewed some 20 people, they are convinced the husband was involved somehow."

It was a frustrating case for the two detectives. Two years ago Dr. Don Lewis had reported his wife missing from their Upper East Side home. Before the disappearance, Jackie Lewis had admitted to friends that she would be seeking a divorce from her husband. According to the detectives, the Lewis' marriage had been rocky for the last 5 years. Police had suspected Dr. Lewis, but had no evidence to press charges because the body had never been recovered.

Mike leaned over to view Connie's opened file of the Lewis' case. He knew he felt an attraction for his comely assistant DA, but realized the work relationship must remain professional.

But too late, he realized that he had strayed too close to Connie. He felt a small jolt. Danger! Danger! Lean back!

"—so in summary," said Mike as he pretended to causally lean back and use his chopsticks to point at the air," we have no murder weapon, no bloody clothes, no fingerprints, no body parts, no brain matter and no partridge in a pear tree."

"That about sums it up—minus the pear tree, "Connie agreed and smiled, "I think tomorrow we should go over statements with the detectives. We might be able to ascertain something we could use against Lewis."

It had been a long day.

"Tomorrow, then." Mike stretched out. "Let's call it a day."

The parking structure was dark and sparse of cars due to the lateness of the hour. Mike was walking Connie to her car. Connie had to admit that she enjoyed these impromptu times with Mike where they just talked about nothing in particular.

In fact, she knew she enjoyed it too much. She had to remind herself that he was her boss.

"What a day. I just want to go home tonight and curl up to a good book," Connie remarked.

"How's the new book you're reading?" Mike asked. Their briefcases occasionally clashed as they walked side by side.

"Suspenseful," replied Connie, "It's a spy thriller. Called _Motion to Suppress_."

"Sounds more like an entry in a law journal," joked Mike.

"Definitely it's not about legal work," explained Connie, "Much more exciting. This is like my little escape from the administrative work of criminal law."

Nothing seemed out of place as they continued their small talk. The night air only whispered the sounds of their voices. They walked past wall after wall of solid concrete, broken up occasionally by cemented steps or open aired windows. Their steps echoed in the dimly lit parking structure

Connie reached her car. She already had her car key out and was inserting it into the door lock.

Meanwhile, a mysterious black SUV with tinted windows had entered the entrance to the garage. It drove down the parking ramp at an abnormally slow speed. The unhurried pace continued in the stillness of the night.

When it came into Mike's view, the rolling speed unsettled him.

Connie had been oblivious to what was happening. She managed to get her car door unlocked.

The SUV had come to a complete stop near them.

Guardedly Mike watched as the driver-side's automatic window slightly rolled down.

Something stuck out of the crack in the car window. It was a flash of metal and that could not be good.

Mike acted instinctively.

Without thinking, he quickly shielded a surprised Connie with his body as he tried to maneuver them between two cars.

Connie did not know what was happening, but she perceived danger. She felt Mike's weight pushing her body down and away. She could feel her heart beating faster as she stayed crouched, with Mike protecting her. They remained in that position. Waiting.

Then everything happened quickly. Suddenly she heard a loud explosion reverberating throughout the parking garage. This was followed in succession by another loud explosion. Connie bent her head even lower, as if to better protect herself. As she heard the deafening sounds, she closed her eyes

She remained in a rolled up position as her heart continued the accelerated beating.

Next was the sound of screeching tires, which continued to diminish as the seconds ticked on. Mike remained next to her. She could feel his body warmth. They did not move.

They waited until the echoing sounds were just a memory, and the car had disappeared from sight.

She felt Mike's grasp loosen slightly and she was able to raise herself up.

However, Mike did not stand up.

"Mike!" Connie screamed as she looked down at the collapsed form.

He had been shot.

_Let me know what you think; even a one word acknowledgement would be greatly appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2

Mike realizes he is not alone.

Chapter 2

Everything seemed a blur to Connie as she rode with Mike in the ambulance. She remembered the loud siren and the blinking lights as the ambulance accelerated through the dark but busy New York City Streets.

The Downtown New York Hospital was nestled at the foot of the picturesque-lit Brooklyn Bridge. It was a short three- minute ride.

Upon arrival at the hospital, two EMS workers jumped out the back door of the ambulance and quickly rolled Mike onto a gurney through the emergency hospital doors.

Someone had expeditiously lifted a working IV on a stand and connected it to Mike as they wheeled him down the hospital hallway. There was a scurry of hospital workers, some yelling orders, and others running to catch up. Connie followed alongside, hastily keeping pace.

She did not want to leave his side, but one of the workers shouted over his shoulder that Connie could go no further. She watched as the gurney and workers disappeared while the swinging doors wobbled shut in the emergency room.

By the time Connie had arrived at the waiting room, the doctor was already there, conferring with Anita Van Buren, and detectives Cyrus Lupo and Kevin Bernard. They exchanged greetings as the doctor continued with Mike's medical update.

It had been fortunate that Mike had been shot in the shoulder, explained the doctor. The bullet had made a clean exit, with no permanent damage to vital organs. His recovery will be relatively quick, although the hospital will keep him for observation overnight.

Buren tried to comfort a relieved Connie by telling her that Mike will receive 24- hour police protection. The three waited with Connie.

After a while, a nurse entered and announced to Connie that Mike had been asking for her.

She hurridly left the waiting room and entered Mike's room.

She expected to see him lying in bed in agony with tubes running from all sides of him.

Instead, he was sitting up. His hospital gown was slightly askew, showing his left shoulder had been wrapped. This seemed to be the only indication that he had suffered any trauma. Quietly reading, he looked up and smiled when Connie entered.

Connie forced a smile and tried not to show she was worried.

"The doctor said it's only a superficial wound." she said, "You were lucky."

Mike shrugged, "Lucky? It hurts like hell!"

"I'm sure you'll face it like a big boy." Connie lightly declared, as she smoothed out a corner of his bed, " I've seen in the movies where the good guy gets all shot up and he is still able to run full speed after the bad guys,"

"That only happens in movies. This is real life." Mike grimaced, as he attempted to sit up more, "In real life, the good guy goes to the hospital, because, oh yeah, _it hurts like hell_!"

Connie smiled. At least he still had a sense of humor about him.

Connie thanked him for saving her life, but Mike just brushed it off and wanted to discuss trying to locate the killer.

"Were Lupo and Bernard able to recover any bullets at the scene?" asked Mike, getting back to serious matters,

Connie nodded, "Two fragmented bullets were recovered from the scene. It looked like the person used 40-caliber bullets. No gun was recovered, however."

Mike mulled over the new facts, "So we can't identify the gun yet…maybe we can have Lupo and Bernard widen the search to try and find the gun."

Connie explained that Lt. Van Buren had assigned two other detectives to Mike's case. According to the Lieutenant, for the last month, there had been a citywide panic caused by the Manhattan Serial Killer. The killer had already stuck a dozen times. People were fearful of visiting New York's Central Park. The lieutenant needed her best detectives on the case, which were, of course, Lupo and Bernard. However, she assured Connie that detectives Harper and Wong were fine detectives, too.

Mike looked worried. He did not like idea of dealing with two unknown detectives.

"Connie, I need to tell you something. "

"What is it?" Connie was not getting a good feeling.

Mike explained that this had actually been the second attempt on his life. A week earlier, a black vehicle had tried to run him over as he crossed Centre Street on his way to the office. It may have been the same vehicle.

Connie was clearly upset and wanted to know why he hadn't told her earlier. He said he had considered that an isolated incident. Until now.

Mike leaned forward.

"I don't trust anyone but you, Lupo and Bernard on this case," said Mike, "I think both times the black SUV had an official license plate."

"Official license plate? What could that mean, Mike?"

"I'm not sure. I just know it wasn't a regular license plate. The license plate color combination was blue and gray instead of the usual blue and gold. Looked like it may have been an official vehicle of some sort. That means it may even be connected to the police department or the DA's office."

"I want to help you find this killer," Connie insisted.

Mike shook his head. "No. This could be dangerous. I want you out of harm's way."

Connie knew it was a risky undertaking. But this was Mike.

"You said it yourself that you don't trust anyone but Lupo, Bernard and me. They're not available. But I am."

"Connie, this isn't like one of your spy thriller novels. People can really get hurt."

"I know people can really get hurt. Like you. That's why I will help you." Connie asserted.

"Wait a minute—" he began.

The nurse interrupted to say Mike needed his rest. Mike gave Connie an exasperated look, but she just ignored it as the nurse escorted her out.

As Connie left, she saw the back of a uniformed police officer posted at Mike's door. At least he is safe for now, she thought.

Four hours later, Mike was trying to get some rest in the hospital room. He closed his eyes, but sleep would not come.

The only persons visiting after-hours were the nurses who came to check his vitals. Another nurse would not be in for another two hours.

It was almost too quiet. The darkness of the room contributed to the feeling of isolation. He wished sleep would come.

Mike's eyes were shut when he sensed the hospital room door opening noiselessly. He expected the person entering to utter some form of greeting, but he heard no human voice. Yet there was definitely someone else in the room. He could hear the sound of footsteps quietly approaching.

This alarmed Mike.

There was a quiet pause.

That's when he knew he was in jeopardy.

He rapidly rolled to the right of the bed at the same time he heard the cock of a gun. There was the ka-whooshing sound of a silencer as two bullets in succession hit the pillow at the spot where his head had been seconds earlier. The pillow exploded at the bullets' impact.

As he purposely fell to the floor, he had grabbed the cord to the call button for the nurse. The light on top of the bed lit up. A buzz sounded.

He could hear the door opening and light pouring in from the doorway, then the sound of footsteps leaving.

A split second later, the door opened again with the light coming in and louder footsteps arriving.

Mike, with a pained expression from his injury, was helped to his feet by the nurse and gently led back on the bed.

I need to get out of here, he thought.

And he knew only Connie could help him.

_Don't worry, I won't beat up Mike too much after this—at least not for awhile!_

_Thanks for the great reviews!_

_Keep them coming—they are my special reward for writing!_

_A special call-out to Marine, thank you! _


	3. Chapter 3

Connie to the rescue.

Chapter 3

Connie was upset.

She found out a third attempt had been made on Mike's life.

Last night at the hospital, someone had posed as a police guard to Mike's room. That person had attempted to kill Mike. She tried to recall the phony officer's appearance, but she had been too distracted by Mike's injury.

Sometime in the night, Mike had snuck out of the hospital without the hospital's consent. Where was he? Would he contact her?

Connie had been busy all morning at arraignment court. She constantly checked her blackberry to no avail.

As usual it had been utter confusion at the courtroom hearing. The gallery milled around the traditional wood-grained courtroom until the judge banged the gavel for court to begin. Usually Connie found arraignment court challenging, but today she could not focus on work.

Back at the DA's office Connie strategized how she could subcontract out her workload cases. She wanted to get her cases off her hands so that she could concentrate on assisting Mike.

Luckily her boss, Jack McCoy, was testifying to Congress in Washington D.C. regarding funding for the Special Victims Unit based in New York City. He would be gone a week.

Her Blackberry buzzed as she sat at her desk.

Connie picked it up on the first ring.

"Connie." It was Mike. He sounded tired.

"Are you okay?" Connie couldn't keep the concern out of her voice.

"I'm fine. Listen…keep this conversation to ourselves… others in the office shouldn't know you're talking to me." Mike said covertly in a low tone as Connie looked around her area.

"Oh, yes, of course. I can file a subpoena tonight." faked Connie in a businesslike voice.

"I could use your help after all. Do you think you could meet me? I have money, but I need an extra change of clothes. Could you pack whatever clothing I have in my office? Plus bring any files you think might be of help, too."

"Yes. Where should I serve this subpoena?" Connie continued the charade.

"Bring it to the place where Lupo liked the turkey chili. Tonight at 9." Mike said in a cryptic manner.

Connie knew exactly the location. A few years ago they had prosecuted a case that originated in a small town called Dargerville.

During the preliminaries of the case, detective Cyrus Lupo, who enjoyed small towns, commented that Dargerville's coffee shop made the best turkey chili around.

Dargerville was a two-hour drive from New York.

It was farmland country.

"Oh, and Connie," added Mike.

"Yes?"

"In my center drawer, there is a key. Use the key to open my bottom right hand drawer."

"…bottom right hand drawer…" repeated Connie.

"You'll see a gun," he simply said, "Pack it also. And Connie….I really do appreciate everything you're doing for me. Thanks."

Connie shut off her Blackberry.

A gun? He could use a gun? She wondered to herself. She had not even realized he knew how to handle a gun.

As she distractedly whirled around to leave her chair, she was startled to see someone standing directly behind her.

"Oh, Tim, you've startled me!" A stunned Connie brought her hand up to her upper chest.

"Oh…sorry, Miss Rubirosa," said the young, newly hired intern, "I just wanted to drop off these completed files." He leaned over and placed them on her desk.

As he walked away, Connie watched him, wondering how much he heard.

Six hours later, Connie had managed to hire out all her work.

Dargerville. Connie leaned back in her chair. Back to Dargerville.

She recalled the small town well. That was the place where Lupo had been arrested when he tried to save Connie from being "manhandled" by the corrupt local sheriff.

A state trooper with close ties to the governor had work in conjunction with the unscrupulous Dargerville sheriff to cover up a murder. Mike had prosecuted both the state trooper and the sheriff.

Wait. A state trooper. He would definitely drive a vehicle with some type of official license plate, right?

She checked the internet and noted the colors of the official license plate of a state trooper were blue and gray. It was a possibility.

The other clue had been the fragmented bullets. Connie went and checked the Dargerville file and noted that the state trooper's Glock 37 was a 40- caliber handgun. It was also a possibility.

Connie looked at the time. She had not realized how late it was getting. The streetlights were already glowing down on the streets. She had to leave for Dargerville.

Luckily she had gone home earlier for lunch to pack her things. All the items she needed were packed and already in the trunk of her car. She just needed to get Mike's things.

She had brought an extra gym bag to pack the clothes Mike kept in the office. She stuffed all the clothes hanging on his office rack and some shoes on an opened shelf, as well as the Dargerville files in the bag. Lastly she added his gun, folded among the clothes, at the top. Zipping up the bag, she realized she had to hurry or she would miss meeting Mike.

The hour was late

She looked around the various offices. She had been so intensely concentrated on her hypothetical ideas that she had not realized she was the only one remaining in the office.

The dead silence of the various offices made it possible for her to hear the airtight noise of the elevator door as it stopped on her floor.

From where she stood at the doorway of Mike's office, she stuck her head out slightly down the hallway. She made out a very dark form.

Instincts told her that she was in peril.

She walked backwards inside Mike's office and quickly shut off the lights. Looking around, she observed that his office offered no place for her to hide. There were no large containers, no closets. She tried the side door. It was locked.

She looked all around his office. Mike's desk. As Connie yanked out his chair, she noted his baseball bat leaning nearby in the corner. She stretched out and grabbed the wooden bat and then curled up in the tiny opened space under his desk.

She could hear the footsteps getting closer now.

Her breathing sounded so loud in the silent room.

Connie tried hard to concentrate on taking long, slow breaths. She was alone and she was filled with fear.

It was dark, scary dark everywhere.

She heard hurried footsteps approaching. In no time, the intruder had entered Mike's office. _He knows I'm in here_ _somewhere_. She pushed herself and the bat further in the tiny crawl space.

The footsteps paused.

Oh God, Oh God, she thought. She did not want to die here. Not like this.

The footsteps came closer to the desk.

She took one last deep breath as she sensed him going around Mike's desk.

When Connie saw the view of a pants leg, she took a firm grip of the wooden bat. It was now or never. With the thick part of the bat sticking out, she pushed as hard as she could twice into the front shins of the intruder.

She heard the dark figure cry out in surprised pain and bend over. That's when she popped out of her space and as hard as she could, she hit him in the middle of his back.

The mysterious figure bellowed in agony as Connie ran out of the office with the bat in one hand and the gym bag in the other.

The adrenaline had kicked in and she felt she was flying down the hallway. Her breathing was to the point of hyperventilating but she knew she could not stop. She reached the door of the stairway and looked back. No one was following her. That only made her move faster.

She opened the stairway door and quickly descended the steps. She ran speedily through the parking garage to her car. She was gasping for air at this point. Nervously she put the key in and unlocked her car.

Her hands were shaking as she locked all doors, turned on the engine, and put the car in reverse.

The tires were screeching as she drove away.

Faster, car, faster! She yelled to herself in the car. She looked nervously in the rearview mirror, but the streets looked deserted.

She was on her way to Dargerville. And to Mike.

_Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

Mike and Connie have a clandestine meeting.

Chapter 4

The Dargerville Diner exuded a feeling of nostalgia. It looked more like a luncheonette. The small dining area was mostly countertop, except for five sets of tables, each accompanied by two chairs, scattered around the perimeter of the room.

Two sliced pies were displayed on the ecru plastic counter. On one wall was posted a chalkboard with handwritten words indicating today's special. Surrounding the chalkboard were black and white photos of better times in this tiny town. Homemade country-blue curtains surrounded the diner, giving it a homey feeling.

Mike had situated himself on one of the counter stools, near the pies. He thought meeting Connie here in Dargerville would be safe. No one could guess they would be hiding out here.

It was almost 9 pm. He turned as he heard the door of the diner open.

He smiled when he saw Connie enter, but it quickly turned to concern. She had a disheveled look about her and she was shaking. There was a brown leather strap running diagonally across her body.

Mike got off the stool to guide her to one of the other stools and sat next to her. He ordered coffee for her and the waitress refilled his cup.

Connie slowly told him about the mystery intruder at the DA's office earlier. She was still clearly agitated.

The talk seemed to do her good, however, for she was soon able to converse in a calmer manner.

Mike heaved a sigh of relief at the end of her story.

"The important thing is you are alright." Mike's tone was filled with compassion.

The mere thought that Connie had to go through such a terrifying ordeal instilled in him a powerful need desire to protect her.

"I'm just glad I'm here now," Connie affirmed, almost adding "with you".

"That was brilliant of you to use the baseball bat," Mike stated.

"Speaking of that, I have something to show you," she said.

Connie turned around halfway until Mike could see her back. The long leather strap was connected to a lumpy, rolled up yoga mat across her back.

Mike took note. "You plan on opening a yoga studio here?" he half-kiddingly asked.

"Actually this is your baseball bat, rolled up in my yoga mat that I've kept in the trunk of my car," she explained. " This bat saved my life, so I plan on taking it everywhere I go!"

Mike tried to hide his grin. In spite of their dangerous situation, the image of professional and practical Connie weaponizing a baseball bat throughout the peaceful town of Dargerville absolutely amused him.

The waitress came over to refill the cups. She gave Mike an extra special smile.

That didn't escape Connie's eyes.

"Seems you're a hit with the locals."

Connie was getting back to her own self.

"Not me. I think anyone from the New York Police Department or the District Attorney's office would be pretty popular here." Mike assured her, "After all, we did get rid of their corrupt sheriff."

They talked a little more about their past experiences with Dargerville. Subsequently, they talked about their present situation.

Mike had also figured out the possible connection of state trooper Thomas Volchek to the attempted killings. He was glad Connie on her end was thinking along the same lines.

However, they knew that both evidences were weak and would never hold up in court. Too many other official licenses could conceivably be blue and gray. Mike could not make a license plate match to Volchek's vehicle. They also had knowledge there were many types of 40-caliber handguns. So again, they could not associate it to Volchek.

"We need better proof, especially with the handgun." Connie reasoned, "If only we had the actual gun to match with ballistics."

"If we find Volchek, we find the gun." Mike affirmed.

"Let's just hope we find him before he finds us!" Connie exclaimed.

But isn't he in prison?" questioned Mike, "If I remembered correctly, we plea bargained with his lawyer for a lighter sentence in exchange for testimony against the sheriff three years ago."

"Yes, but he got out early due to good behavior. Instead he received a 5 year probationary sentence." Connie recalled the updated file.

"So can we locate him?" asked Mike.

"That's the bad news." Connie announced, "His probation officer said he's in the wind. Hasn't reported in a week and a half."

"Hmmm. That's not good. So tomorrow, we should call Lupo and Bernard. We'll let them know we're okay, and they can relay the message to everyone else. They also might be able to give us Volchek's most recent address."

"Lupo and Bernard are on a _more_ important case, remember?" reminded Connie, doing air quotations around the word 'more'.

"They get a lunch-break everyday. I'm sure it's at noon. We'll just make sure we call them at noon."

Connie shook her head, "That won't be much of a lunch-break for them then."

"We'll just tell them they have _another _serial killer on the loose, except this serial killer just keeps trying to kill the same lawyers!" Mike reasoned.

Mike's comment made Connie realize that the killer was not only after Mike, but he was after her, too.

Mike registered the fear in her eyes.

He almost put his hand over hers to comfort her, but held back. Maybe it would be better to assure her with words.

"Connie," he insisted in a quiet tone, "You're with me. You don't have to be afraid."

Connie looked at his deep blue eyes. She wanted to believe him. She took comfort in his sincerity, his strength.

For a second, their exchanged looks lasted a little too long. She felt butterflies in her stomach. Connie contributed the uneasiness to being afraid.

"We've got our work cut out for us, " Mike broke the silence and placed a five- dollar bill on the counter, "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Connie asked hesitantly.

"To get some rest," explained Mike, "Tomorrow will be busy."

"Do we have a place to stay?" Connie wondered.

" I talked with Judge Sorosky earlier this evening," explained Mike, "Remember him from the Lupo trial? He's going to put us up for a few days at his farm while we do our little investigating."

"Oh, really?" Connie looked doubtful as she also stood up.

Mike nodded thanks to the waitress.

As Mike walked to the door, he paused, remembering something he needed to say.

"By the way, in your spy thriller novel, did the main character ever have to do undercover work?"

Connie thought that was rather an odd question.

"Well," thought Connie, " the main character, Alexandria Andrews was a CIA operative agent, so yes, she did go undercover at times when she was out in the field. Why do you ask?"

"Well," Mike said with a roguish smile as he reached for the door, "I forgot to mention one small thing to you. Like your book heroine, you'll be going undercover too."

Connie was puzzled. "What does that mean?"

"Let's just say Dargerville is a small, old-fashioned town."

"And?"

" And I didn't want to alarm anyone here that there is a killer stalking us. Yet I needed you physically near me to keep you safe. Therefore I didn't mention anything to the judge and his wife about a killer, but I _did_ mention that you and I are boyfriend, girlfriend." Mike answered casually as he opened the door for a shocked Connie.

_As always, any reviews are appreciated._

_Be sure to read the next chapter! _


	5. Chapter 5

Mike and Connie's first undercover attempt.

Chapter 5

It was very dark by the time they pulled up to the Sorotsky's farmstead. Even in the dark, Connie could see it was a gentle and unassuming little white country home. Although slightly in disrepair, the house appeared strong. It had a nice wraparound porch with a long swing on the side. Embellishments were kept to a minimum. A small garden was planted in front. A picturesque red barn dwelled on the side.

Judge Samuel Sorotsky and his wife stood on the porch to greet their new guests. Like their home, the elderly couple appeared simple yet sturdy. Connie knew the judge, but she had not met the wife. However, she liked the wife on sight.

Introductions were made to the Judge and Gladys.

The Judge noticed Mike's injury. "Why, what happened there, son?" he pointed at Mike's injury.

"Target shooting," Mike lied.

"Well, now, that don't make much sense " the Judge said, shaking his head back and forth, "Shouldn't it be the _target _that gets shot at?"

Mike and Connie exchanged looks. If they were going undercover, they were going to have to work on refining their background stories.

"And aren't you just the prettiest thing!" Gladys turned her attention to Connie, "but you must be tired after such a long drive…come on in!"

The four entered the homespun living room. The room was adorned with weathered pine furniture with wood ceiling beams. The natural wood floors were partially covered by an antiquated area rug. It was a natural, aged-old country farmhouse.

But it was getting very late.

After some small talk, it was time to discuss sleeping arrangements for the night.

"We have only one guest room, down the hall and to the left" explained the Judge, "I guess you two can place your things in there. Bathroom is down the hall."

Connie gave Mike a look.

The gesture was not lost on the Judge.

"Now don't be all uncomfortable around us," he said to Connie, "We country folks aren't as backwards as you think. We understand that modern city couples like yourselves…well, don't mind sharing a room…"

This time Connie elbowed Mike.

"Ooh…"Mike recovered. "Actually, I was thinking of taking the sofa downstairs tonight, if you don't mind. I think it just might be better…"

Gladys nodded, as if she understood the situation.

"Of course we understand! Aren't you two just adorable!" She exclaimed looking at one, then the other.

She took Connie's hand in hers. "I think it's just wonderful how you've decided to save yourself!" Gladys exclaimed.

"Save myself? What? No! I mean…yes…but…" Connie was flabbergasted.

"No need to feel embarrassed," Gladys patted Connie's hand in acknowledgement, "It's refreshing. And if you want, you can come to me anytime for the 'talk'".

The judge nodded in agreement, "She's good at it. Explained the birds and bees to our boy when he was 10."

She heard Mike snicker.

I am going to kill him, she thought.

An hour later, everyone had settled down for the night. The Sorotsky's were upstairs in their room. Connie slept across the hall from them. Mike was on the downstairs sofa.

In the guest room, Connie laid on the quilt, not quite sleepy yet. She picked up her novel, _Motion to_ Suppress and was soon lost in the dangerous exploits of CIA operative Alexandria Andrews.

_Alexandria was running through the catacombs of Paris, located beneath the city. It was dark and dreary. The crumbling underground tunnel echoed her hurried steps. Beyond the dark cavern entrance was a wall of arranged skull bones. There was the gurgling sound of rusted water from an unused aquaduct. The dark and sinister chamber would not deter her from her mission. Alexandria pulled out her handgun in case she needed to overtake the killer. She would not let the infiltrator get away from her this time._

Connie looked up from her book. The wooden bat was leaning against the corner.

She dreamily imagined _DA's secret operative, Connie Rubirosa, recovering the bat from the darkness of the corner in case she needed to "overtake the killer. She would not let the infiltrator get away from her this time." _

She smiled to herself at the silliness.

She went to retrieve it. She looked the wooden bat over. Mike's bat. She almost wished he were here instead of the bat. No! I didn't just think that! She tried to tell herself. She just thought that way because she didn't want to be alone. Yes, that's it.

Downstairs, the sofa Mike was to sleep in was old and lumpy. Gladys had lent him a homemade quilt for a cover and an extra pillow. He still had a shoulder wrap, so it was difficult for him to find a comfortable spot.

He just wanted sleep to come.

He tossed and turned. His thoughts wandered. He pictured Connie sleeping just one floor up. Could she be thinking of him? Or, he pondered smiling, was she thinking instead… of his bat? Wondered what she was doing now?

He didn't even remember sleeping. But he must have dozed off because later that night he was awakened by a short scream followed by two thundering hits.

Connie.

Mike threw the quilt off and bounded up the stairs.

Let her be allright, he prayed.

He didn't even take the time to knock.

"_Connie_!" He yelled as he burst through the door, followed by the Sorotskys.

Inside the guest room, Connie was standing, dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants. She had possession of his wooden bat, leaning it against her shoulders.

She was staring down on the floor.

Mike and the Sorotskys looked down at the same small spot.

"A _spider_?" Mike continued looking down on the floor, surprised, and then at Connie.

"The world's _biggest_ spider," Connie insisted, "I was just walking across the room and it came crawling from under the bed!"

"Well, damn, if you didn't hit it so hard that it exploded!" the Judge exclaimed, examining the small dark spot.

Mike tried to hide his smile.

"Never you mind them, "Gladys insisted, pushing the two men out the door, "I guess spiders just don't grow as big in the city! I'll help clean this up. You boys, out!"

"Batter up!" Mike said before he was pushed out.

She almost threw the bat at him.

_(Did you like this more humorous side of our favorite couple?)_

_Please let me know!_


	6. Chapter 6

Mike and Connie are safe in Dargerville for now.

The country life seems to suit our favorite couple.

Chapter 6

The Sorotsky's kitchen, like the rest of the house, had a homespun country feeling to it. Rust-red colored stencils of roosters, pigs and sheep adorned the top of the wall. Distressed brass utensils were kept in a rustic country jar on the counter while copper- bottomed pans, and cast iron skillets were suspended from a display rack.

The kitchen led to the opened aired dining area. A dark wooden table with four high-backed wooden chairs inhabited the room. Each chair was covered with coordinated seat cushions in the same color as the stencil on the wall.

Connie had already been up for 5 hours and it was not even 10 o'clock in the morning yet.

Midday found everyone already involved in the day's activities.

The kitchen felt warm and inviting with the lingering smell of morning's meal still in the air. Gladys was peeling apples for the homemade pie for tonight. She told Connie that Mike and the Judge were outside doing farm work.

Connie volunteered to peel, core and slice the apples.

"Much obliged," said Gladys, "leaves me time to roll out the pastry crust." Gladys became busy sprinkling the flour on the board, placing the morning's already-made dough on it and rolling it flat with a pin.

As she worked, Gladys explained to Connie that the Sorotsky's farm covered three acres. Money from off the farm just covered the farm's expenses. Depending on the season, the Sorosky's main crops were strawberries, apples, and tomatoes.

Connie listened as she peeled the apples from the sink. Above the sink was a kitchen window, it's curtains decorated in a plaid rust-red pattern, which provided a countryside view of the entire farmland.

In the distance she could see the Judge next to the tractor, conversing with Mike in the field.

Mike was wearing a denim blue shirt with his jeans. She saw him stoop down to scoop up the soil, letting it run through his hands as the Judge was talking. Mike stood up, nodded to the judge, and wiped the remaining soil from his hands onto his jeans.

The hard-driven New York EADA looked very natural out in the country air.

Connie had been so involved with her own thoughts that she hadn't realized Gladys was standing directly behind her.

"Your beau has been working all morning with Sam. Fine young gentleman you've got there," Gladys said as she looked out the window, "Hardworking and as honest as they get. Handsome as the hills, too."

The comments made Connie smile as she continued watching Mike, who was now climbing on the tractor. She sighed as she continued peeling the apples. He was exactly how Gladys had described him, wasn't he? she mused. But then she shook her head. She had to remind herself that she was just playing a role. Once this was all over, they would once again become one of the many prosecutors in New York City.

Two hours later the Judge and Mike came in for the noon lunch. The kitchen was inviting with the smell of baked apple pie. Gladys placed four plates of ham sandwiches as well as homemade potato salad with fresh milk on the table.

The four of them sat around the table and talked about the morning activities.

After he took his last bite, the Judge commented that he needed to fix the broken fence in the sheep's pen. Mike wanted to help, but the Judge turned him down, saying Mike needed to wait until his shoulder healed.

Gladys turned to Connie. "Hope you were able to sleep well, dear, despite the scary little mishap last night."

"I assume you're referring to spider-gate," inserted Mike, playfully, "Let's just say, I think all the creatures in the bug world will be sleeping with one eye opened tonight!"

Connie tried to glare at him, but she, too, found herself smiling.

As she started clearing the plates, Gladys took note of the yoga mat Connie had slung across her body, which contained Mike's bat.

"What is that you've been lugging around here this whole time?" Gladys wanted to know.

Connie paused in mid-action. It hadn't occurred to her that she would need an explanation for the bat. She had grown so accustomed to the bat that she just considered it another appendage.

Her hesitation left Mike an opportunity to comment, much to Connie's dismay.

"Oh, she has a baseball bat hidden in there," Mike answered truthfully, as he nonchalantly took another bite of the sandwich, "She's a big Yankees' fan."

"You don't say!" said the Judge, "So, Connie, what do you think about the Yankees this season?"

"Yes, do tell," smiled Mike, who knew Connie did not follow baseball at all. He gave her his uninvited attention.

Connie collected two used plates and a glass from the table.

Connie looked at Mike first.

"I thought they did well this season," said Connie without missing a beat, "With their regular season record of 95 wins and 67 losses, that placed them in second place in the American League East behind Tampa. My prediction is they will probably get the Wild Card spot."

"Damn right!" chuckled the Judge.

She turned around to put the dirty dishes in the sink, but not before she saw Mike's jaw drop. She secretly smiled to herself.

Gladys walked over to the sink.

"Oh, let me do the dishes, Dearie," insisted Gladys, bringing other dishes to be washed, "I think you two lovebirds deserve some time alone,"

"Yes, come on, Honey," said Mike standing up quickly. Connie actually felt a thrill at the name of 'Honey'. "Let's take a nice walk."

Connie gave a questioning look, but followed Mike out of the house.

They stood outside the porch.

"You know the Sorotsky's are probably running to the window right now," remarked Mike, "Maybe we should…hold hands."

He held out his hand.

Connie suddenly felt shy. But she knew they needed to play their parts. She reached over and slowly clasped her hand over his. His hand felt warm and strong. Both were surprised to feel a jolt running from their arms throughout both of their bodies.

As they walked down the porch steps and that feeling subsided, Connie took in all her surroundings. She appreciated the quaint country setting, heard the birds chirping, and felt the warm sun. Most importantly, she was holding hands with Mike.

Everything seemed perfect. Connie half kiddingly thought they should be swinging their arms and skipping.

"I'm glad we're alone," said Mike broke into her thoughts. "Let's go inside the barn."

"What? Why?" Connie looked at him suspiciously.

"It's past noon, "Mike explained, "We need to conference call Lupo and Bernard, remember?"

Connie didn't know why she felt disappointed at his answer.

(_Thought it would be nice to just add some character commentary to their adventure. The action will heat up soon! Please review this small chapter just to let me know whether you've liked it or not._)


	7. Chapter 7

It's back to serious business.

Mike and Connie communicate with New York's finest.

Chapter 7

"You're doing great with our little undercover work, by the way," Mike encouraged her as they had almost reached the barn.

"Oh really?" Connie faced him, "Despite the fact that in one day I've managed to convince the Sorotsky's that I am a bat-wielding, spider-killing virgin?"

Mike couldn't remember a time he enjoyed Connie's company so much as these last two days. He reluctantly let go of her hand to open the barn door.

The smell of the dusty yet somewhat sweet- smelling hay in the barn assaulted their senses when they first walked in. The interior of the barn was small, allowing for just a few chickens inside a caged makeshift shelf, and one cow, that swished her tail inside a stall. The rafters up above allowed sunlight to hit a portion of the rough floorboards, where several stacks of hay were piled up.

In the barn, Mike placed his Blackberry on a stand-alone bale of hay. Connie sat on one side as Mike sat on the other.

After two rings, they heard "Lupo".

It was good to hear detective Lupo's low voice. When he recognized Mike and Connie, he told them to wait while he got Bernard.

The detectives needed to move to one of the interview rooms so they could conference call privately. Mike and Connie heard the activity of the 2-7 in the background as Lupo and Bernard changed locations.

"Jeez, Lu-weez, where have you two been? " Bernard asked once the detectives settled in the private room, "it's like you two disappeared from the face of the earth."

Connie didn't realize how much she missed a regular working day until she heard the detectives' voices.

Mike was all business as he spoke into the Blackberry and updated Lupo and Bernard. Besides informing them about Dargerville, he explained to them the theory about state trooper Thomas Volchek.

Connie admired the fact that he could easily switch from country farmer to New York prosecutor in no time. She listened as he explained the need to also find out the identity of the hospital guard. He felt that the decoy police officer was working in partnership with Volchek, which meant at least two men were after them.

He presented the facts so composedly, as if he was giving an opening argument in court.

When the detectives insisted that Mike and Connie come in for protection, Connie was the one who informed them that they couldn't trust anyone. She insisted that they were determined to find the killer or killers on their own.

Lupo and Bernard admitted that the officers assigned to the case were baffled as to the identity of the bogus police officer. Although Lupo and Bernard were not officially on the case, they promised, on their free time, to research Volchek's background to see if any red flags popped up.

Connie found the conversation with the detectives riveting. All this role-playing and secrecy talk reminded her of the latest chapter in the book she read last night.

_With one death-defying mission accomplished, agent Alexandria Andrews' next assignment was to jet off to Monte Carlo in Monaco. The exclusive playground for the rich and famous would provide an intriguing background for her next assignment. Working undercover as a wealthy heiress, she would reside at the posh Port Palace. In addition, she would be working in tandem with Monaco's dashing lead intelligence agent, Trent Maxwell. They were to rendezvous at the luxurious Sun Casino on the Cote d'Azur, which romantically overlooked the Mediterranean Sea._

Connie fantasized about her own dangerous mission. _Working undercover as a regular girlfriend, ADA Connie Rubirosa took residence at the Sorotsky's folksy farmstead. In addition she worked in tandem with New York City's dashing executive assistant district attorney, Michael Cutter. They rendezvoused at the dilapidated barn alongside high- strung chickens and an old jersey cow named Betsy. _

Not quite the same.

She needed to stop daydreaming, in case she missed something important the detectives had to say.

In case she missed something important the detectives had to say? Lupo just asked if they've tried the turkey chili yet.

"So how much longer do you plan on staying in Dargerville?" Bernard asked.

"Not much." Mike responded, "We need to get going. We'll probably be leaving tonight."

The answer surprised Connie. Too soon. She enjoyed her time with the Sorotsky's. Ironically, in the jumble of this killer mess, she had never felt more relaxed.

But, of course, Mike would want to move on. His tenacity and determination to close a case was one of his traits that she had always admired about him.

Like him, she too was anxious to find the killer or killers. But not yet. She wondered what Mike thought of their time here.

If she could read his mind, she would see that he would also miss Dargerville. The biggest reason for staying as long as he had was the time he was able to spend alone with Connie. He realized he enjoyed Connie's company more than he could have ever imagined. Knowing he would see her early in the morning until late at night, outside of the office, filled him with exuberant contentment.

He regretted that the Dargerville adventure was only a cover and they were not really a couple. But they must move forward.

"By the way," Connie interjected, contributing to the conversation, "another avenue we can explore is Volchek's former cell-mate from Rikers. He might be able to provide us with some info."

"Good idea," said Bernard, "we'll look into that and will let you know when we have something."

Lupo and Bernard stopped talking as the interview room door at the 2-7opened. Someone had walked into the interview room.

"Counselors…" There was no mistaking the authoritarian voice of Lieutenant Anita Van Buren.

"Lieutenant," said Mike, "We can explain…"

"Don't blame the detectives…" Connie added.

"I thought I had made it clear to you that Detectives Lupo and Bernard are working diligently on another case," Lt. Van Buren spoke in her usual slow but take-no-prisoners tone, "You're calling them on their lunchtime."

"Yes, but Lieutenant…" said Mike

"Don't interrupt me again," insisted the Lieutenant in a quiet, determined tone, "I'm going to explain this slowly so that you two will understand. My detectives need time to replenish. That's what lunchtime is for. So if you call them, don't _ever_ do it at this time. If you require their assistance, call them before or after that time. From noon to one they will not be available to you, but I will be in my office. You can reach me. Immediately. So in summary, I am telling you we will be available to you 24/7. _Do I make myself clear_, Counselors?"

Mike and Connie couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"Absolutely clear. Thank you, Lieutenant," said Mike.

"Yes, thank you," repeated Connie, "that is such a comfort."

"…and Miss Rubirosa, you holding up okay?" Lt. Van Buren asked in a concerned tone.

Connie looked at Mike.

"I'm fine. I'm not afraid."

The call was completed.

Everything seemed fine in Dargerville.

Meanwhile, everything in New York City was not fine.

Thomas Volcheck was enraged.

He was fuming because three times he let Cutter get away. Then Rubirosa escaped from his inside man.

Damn lawyers. He once had a thriving career. He had been part of New York Governor's Executive Services staff. He was considered a personal favorite of Governor Donald Shalvoy. He had it all. That was then. Now his reputation was in tatters. Because of them.

He'll make them pay. He pushed a few buttons on a device he was holding. Slowly his anger dissipated. He looked at the screen of the GPS tracking unit and smiled when the location zoomed in on Dargerville.

Dargerville.

Perhaps it'll work out for the best, he told himself. Now the two assistant district attorneys were together in one place. That would make it easier to get rid of both of them at the same time.

He smiled at his own cleverness.

This time he would make it look like an accident.

_(By the way, this is off the topic, but are you ever affected by Fan Fiction stories when you are watching Law and Order repeats? Sometimes I just smile at the first scene with Mike and Connie, just thinking about the random things Fan Fiction writers make them say! The other day I was watching an old episode and Mike was swinging his bat, and I thought, "Now, give the bat back to Connie!" I was just wondering if anyone else ever had thoughts like that and ended up laughing at the silliness!)_

_Also, please leave a review_


	8. Chapter 8

Mike and Connie know it is time to move on.

Chapter 8

Coming out of the barn, Connie felt refreshed. It was a relief to know that they had the support of the 2-7.

She went back into the house to help Gladys wash, fold and place clothes in the linen closet.

Connie became mildly alarmed when she later heard gunshots in the distance, but Gladys assured her it was just "the boys" taking a break by practicing their target shooting behind the barn.

As a breather from chores, Connie went outside to check on Mike and the Judge.

The red barn was situated to the left of the farmhouse. As Connie neared the back of the barn, she could hear the firings of a gun. She heard the sharp tin sounds of cans as the bullets hit their targets. She rounded the corner of the barn.

The area around the back of the barn had been enclosed with a worn wooden fence. On top of the fence, the Judge had placed ten tin cans. He had been successful in hitting seven of the ten. Now he walked over to the cans and replaced them back on the fence for Mike. Mike stood near the back of the barn, checking to make sure his gun was ready to be fired.

"City folks don't realize that part of the secret of accuracy is the way you hold the gun," the Judge was explaining as he walked back. "Keep the finger outside the trigger guard. Your other hand needs to be wrapped around the outer side of the frame. Make sure you grip evenly. And that there's no air space between the hands and grip. Also keep in mind not to jerk the gun when you fire."

Mike nodded. He stood shoulder width apart, his foot opposite his dominant hand, slightly in front. He lifted the gun and pointed the barrel downrange. The elbow of his dominant hand was almost completely straight.

He closed one eye and aimed at the target. He squeezed the trigger, applying constant pressure. He fired shot after shot in quick succession. The tin cans flew high in the air with each shot. When the shootings were complete, not a single tin can remained on the fence.

Connie stared in amazement.

The Judge slapped Mike on the back.

"I guess that finishes today's lesson!" the Judge grinned.

Connie walked back, wondering where Mike had learned to shoot with such accuracy.

Meanwhile, she had promised Gladys that she would clean the area rug for her. Gladys had complained that she was getting too old to strike the dirt out of the large rug.

The main rug had already been folded over the clothesline. When Connie tried to hit the rug with the long stick she had been given, a little bit of debris flew out. She looked at the stick she had been hitting with. She noticed it would bend as it came in contact with the rug. The job would take forever.

She looked around.

With no one in sight, she took Mike's baseball bat from behind her back and proceeded to strike the rug. Clouds of dust and grime flew everywhere.

Connie was done in half the time.

Finished with target practice, Mike had walked around the corner of the barn in time to see Connie, standing next to the clothesline, dislodging the dirt from the rug with his bat.

He shook his head with a little chuckle. We're like Batman and Robin, except _I'm _Robin.

Mike and Connie had a wonderful time with the Sorotskys. They had felt welcomed and safe. But they knew their lives were still in danger as long as the killer or killers were out there.

Mike and Connie needed to find Thomas Volchek on their own.

Lupo and Bernard had contacted them later that day with the news that they had been unable to find Volchek's current location. However, sealed records had revealed that Volchek had three previous assaults charges with no convictions. During his tenure as a state trooper, records also affirmed he had taken anger management classes. He definitely had a temper. They also added that they were on the verge of finding the name of Volchek's cell-mate.

Mike and Connie decided they needed to drive back to the city and find a hotel near Rikers so that they would be ready once Lupo and Bernard discovered the name of the cell-mate. Both of them still had their DA's office ID, so it would be easy for them to make the visit to the prison. They had especially hoped the cell-mate might be able to provide Volchek's current residence.

It was a couple of hours before dinnertime. Mike and Connie had packed up the few items they had brought with them.

The Judge and Gladys were outside to say goodbye.

"You sure you can't stay longer?" The judge asked as Mike closed the trunk.

"That would be great, but there are some things we need to get done," Mike explained.

"Perhaps we can return at a later time," Connie added.

"This weekend is the Dargerville annual country dance at the community hall. The two of you should come back out for a good time. We'd love to see you there." Gladys proposed.

"Perhaps," Connie said vaguely, but she knew it would not be.

"By the way," the Judge advised Connie, "I know you're a great Yankees fan and all, but carrying a big baseball bat may not be the best way to show your devotion. I might suggest you carry something smaller, like say, a baseball card of your favorite player or something."

"He's right , dear." continued Gladys, "And we usually are not one to give advice, but we just feel a pretty little thing like yourself shouldn't be toting something so big as a baseball bat. I'm sure you know that refined city folks usually carry a purse. The good thing about a purse versus a bat is that it will give you room to carry other things. I'm not criticizing you, but just give the purse idea some thought."

I'm not even going to look in Mike's direction, thought Connie.

She held her head up high.

"I'll keep both ideas in mind, and eh, thank you," Connie said.

Hugs and goodbyes went all around.

Connie had decided to drive her Mercedes-Benz since Mike's shoulder was wrapped. Anyway, she liked driving the open, curvy country roads. They waved out the car window as they drove away, until the Sorotskys were two small figures.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" asked a very impressed Connie, once they were on the road. She actually found that the cool, detached way he had fired the weapon incredibly sexy. But she wouldn't admit it out loud.

"My father was in the army, so we moved around a bit. He didn't have a lot of free time, but when he did, he liked to teach me how to fire a weapon. This Beretta M9 is actually a military-issued handgun," explained Mike.

Who _is_ this person that I work with on a daily basis? Connie asked herself.

As Connie drove on, she would occasionally check her rearview mirror.

At one point down the road, she saw a black SUV with tinted windows following her.

No it can't be, she said.

_Please let me know what you think!_


	9. Chapter 9

The chase is on.

Chapter 9

The one road out of Dargerville led progressively up a mountain road before it would gradually descend back down to the city streets of New York.

Connie was regularly checking her rearview mirror now as her car ascended the mountain. The SUV seemed to be tailing her.

She kept at a constant speed.

As she drove higher up the road, the SUV seemed to be gaining on them.

She now knew it wasn't a random vehicle.

"Mike, I think we have trouble behind us," Connie said when she realized the vehicle was closing distance on them

Mike turned and looked back. At the same time, the SUV quickly accelerated its speed. The grill of the black vehicle was so close that Mike prepared himself for the impact.

BAM! There was a crush of metals. Mike and Connie lurched forward as the vehicle hit them from behind. She steered carefully as her car hugged a curve in the road.

"Oh, God, what do we do, Mike?" Her adrenaline kicked in. Connie floored the pedal, but the driver of the SUV was also gunning his engine. She watched as the needle of her speedometer moved further and further to the right. The engines from the two cars were getting louder and louder.

BAM! Mike and Connie jerked forward again. Her car veered a little off path. It took the car a little longer to recover. She shifted the transmission as the road became steeper. The adrenaline rush had turned to fear.

She took the next curve a little too fast. Her tires screeched. They could hear the vehicle behind them also careening the curve. The engine noise was deafening.

"I don't know what to do!" she panicked.

"Ride fast, stay calm, and above all else, keep the car steady," answered Mike, as he tried to reassure her, "Luckily, we do have somewhat of an advantage."

"Advantage? What advantage are you talking about?" a nervous Connie asked as she turned her steering wheel a short left followed by an immediate quick right.

"Our car can actually handle curved roads better because we have a lower center of gravity. It'll be harder for him to catch up with us," he explained.

"You mean we can outrun him?" Connie was hopeful.

"Well, not that much of an advantage," Mike answered truthfully.

The accelerating roar of the two engines was all she could hear. Connie broke out in a sweat. She cornered another curve and checked the rearview mirror. The SUV followed closely behind, ready to pound them again.

Mike took out his gun and checked to make sure it was ready to fire. Another wave of fear rushed over Connie. He rolled down the window. Immediately a huge gust of wind rushed throughout the interior of the car.

"What are you going to do?" hollered Connie above the noise of the wind, as everything went flapping in the cab of the car.

"Use our second advantage," he shouted back, checking his gun one last time, "obviously he is not shooting at us, so he probably doesn't plan to as he long as he is driving. Either he wants this to look like an accident or he is a lone driver. Either way, we need to shake him loose."

He extended and twisted his upper body out the opened window and faced the SUV. The constant wind made it difficult for him to steady his body. He felt his shoulder pounding against the frame of the open window. He could feel every bump of the road. He tried to maintain a firm posture out the window. Lifting his firearm, Mike blasted off 8 shots. The sound could be heard over the rush of the air currents. Connie's body jerked each time he fired.

Mike returned inside the car, rubbing his left shoulder, which had been knocked about the frame of the opened window. He needed time to recover.

"Mike, are you okay?"

He exhaled loudly. She was relieved when he nodded a yes.

Are you trying to hit him?" Connie yelled above the wind resistance. If so, there wasn't much progress as the SUV continued to follow closely them. She made another turn, as the car veered slightly but was able to handle another curve.

"No." he hollered as his hair whipped all around him, " I'm taking dead aim at his grill. Hopefully several of the shots will reach the radiator. If we can make the radiator leak, we can slow him down."

"Why not hit his window?" Connie shouted, wishing Mike could just eliminate him.

"Specially- made official vehicles like his usually have bullet proof windows," Mike yelled above the wind noise, "it will just ricochet off."

They drove a distance, but again, the black vehicle was gaining momentum.

BAAM! Connie heard the metals clashing again. The black vehicle rammed them from behind. They were once more flung forward, held back only by the buckled seat belts. Her car again veered off course.

Connie feared she might lose control of the car if the SUV rammed them again. And now they were higher up the mountain. The car could easily fly off the road.

Mike took a deep breath and stuck his body out the window again. Once again he was banged up against the window frame of Connie's car, with the wind making it virtually impossible for him to hold steady. He tried to remain as rigid as he could as he fired off 8 more rounds. Connie wasn't as startled by the loud noise as before.

Looking at the rearview mirror, she saw the SUV go slightly off course as Mike fired in succession.

But it straightened itself out and the chase continued. She concentrated on the turn ahead.

"Do you think you've made an impact?" Connie yelled, when he heaved himself back into the passenger seat.

"Let's hope so!" he loudly replied, as he rubbed his wound. He seemed in pain, "I don't think I could take being jostled about again!"

As the road became even more twisted, Connie noticed her Mercedes was able to handle the curves better the further they drove up the mountain. Or maybe she got used to it.

Connie looked at the rearview mirror. It took awhile but she slowly noted the SUV decelerating.

The distance between the two cars started increasing.

Eventually as time went on and Connie drove on, the SUV became a small speck in her mirror.

Connie heaved a sigh of relief.

Again, who _is_ this person she works with? She wondered for the second time today. How does Mike know the random information he knows? Is there a best-selling book he read somewhere, titled, _Obscure Facts Known Only to Rambo Lawyers?_

Meanwhile, Mike looked back and rolled up the window. The interior of the car was once more calm. She now shifted her transmission to descend the mountain.

The mountain road finally flattened out to a country road again. They were safe.

"That was close," she said, thinking out loud, after a few miles.

For the first time since the chase, she was able to turn his way, "I don't know how much more I can take of this. Weren't you scared at all?"

Mike stared straight ahead, looking out the window.

For once, he looked serious.

"I'm only scared when I think I can't protect you," he quietly stated.

Connie was surprised, but in a good way.

She turned her concentration back to the road.

They were headed back to New York City.

_(What did you think?)_

_Next time…Mike and Connie become really close, __**at last**__! Be sure to stay tuned)!_


	10. Chapter 10

Mutual attraction takes over.

Chapter 10

Two hours later they were in the heart of New York City again. It was nighttime so they found accommodations at a plush hotel near Rikers Island. They would be visiting Rikers tomorrow.

It felt strange to be back to the bustle of urban life.

Mike and Connie decided to stay at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in New York City. The hotel suite was in direct contrast to the simple Dargerville farmhouse. The suite was richly embellished. Louis XV style of French décor had inspired the delicate grace and refined elegance of the room. French curved lines emphasized luxurious furnishings. Elaborate silken materials covered French Provencial Chairs and French style beds. The entire room spoke of exquisite indulgence.

It would be nice to relax in extravagant accommodations after what they had been through.

Personally Connie preferred the simplistic decor of the country farmhouse, however, she did look forward to a bubble bath in the grand Roman- style stepped-in marble tub.

Bathed and dressed, she later knocked on the door of Mike's suite next door. They would be having room service in his suite, thus allowing them to privately discuss their situation.

His room was identical to hers except a room service cart had been wheeled in the middle of the suite. Connie could smell the delicious food wafting underneath the dome-topped room service plates. Mike had ordered for Connie the grilled snapper fillet topped with crab butter and served with mushroom risotto and vegetables; Mike had the shrimp and crab capellini with salad. He had also ordered wine.

At first they could not determine how the SUV had been able to track them to Dargerville. Connie swore she never mentioned the town's name in the office. She had been careful not to leave any evidence behind of where she would be headed, either.

On their drive to the hotel, however, Mike was able to find a tracking device in the gym bag and had disposed of it before they had reached the city.

"At least we now know how he was able to locate us," said Mike, taking a bite, "I just wonder how he was able to get the device in among your things."

"It has to be someone working on the inside of the DA's office," Connie commented, taking a sip of the wine.

"Anyone with any unusual behavior at the DA's office?" Mike asked.

"No…no," Connie thought out loud. She ran through all the workers at the DA's office. Then she thought about the last few days before they had to go on the run.

After awhile, "…Wait…Tim." She explained how the new intern always seemed to be around her at the most inopportune times. She recalled times when she had gone to get some coffee or copy some papers only to arrive back and note him already situated near her desk, to ask a question or drop off a document. And then there was that day when he was directly behind her when she received the call from Mike.

They both agreed they would talk to the detectives tomorrow about Tim Vilsky.

.

They were both exhausted.

Mike grimaced a little as he stood up.

"Are you still in pain?" Connie asked.

"Usually gun shots don't bother me much," deadpanned Mike, "but my shoulder has taken a beating with that car chase. I've already cleaned it, but now I'll need to rewrap my wound again."

He walked over to the credenza to retrieve a paper bag. Inside was a large roll of sterile wrapped gauze.

Dinner and discussion was over. Connie stood up to leave. She seemed to be deliberating something in her head.

Finally she made the decision.

"I'll help you rewrap your shoulder." Connie hesitantly volunteered when he had returned. She apprehensively reached one hand forward for the gauzed tape.

Indecision registered on Mike's face. Connie looked just as uncertain. They gazed at one another, wondering what the other was thinking. He opened his mouth to say something, but as an afterthought, he instead handed the rolled gauze to her.

As she held onto the roll, she watched as Mike slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

He started from the top, working his way down. She watched him slowly release each button from its buttonhole. Next he jerked one side of his shirt loose from his belt. Then the other. He removed his shirt guardedly, self consciously. She had watched his every more, unable to look away. Finally the shirt was tossed on the bed.

Her mouth felt dry.

His chest was entirely exposed to her. Though not bulging muscular, Mike's chest was strong, firm, and fit. Not an inch of fat.

She reached out and carefully started unwrapping the old gauze.

Despite the barrier of the wrap, Mike felt the heat of her touch bursting through.

Wordlessly, she let the old worn gauze fall carelessly to the ground as she looked at his wound, admired his bare chest. Her finger reached out instinctively and gingerly outlined his healing punctured wound.

Mike closed his eyes at her tender, velvety touch.

"Does it hurt much?" Her voice sounded different.

He opened his eyes, blue fervent eyes gazing at compassionate brown ones.

"Not as much. Especially now." He could barely form his words. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He tried to resume normal conversation.

"But there are times," he tried to state in a regular tone, " it felt as if someone was pouring Tabasco in the wound."

Connie smiled at his description. She took the new roll of long gauze tape and proceeded wrapping the bandage on the outside of his arm, just below the point of the injury. She wrapped it in a full circle around the back of the arm to secure it in place.

Everywhere she touched, Mike felt a fieriness radiating in that area. He watched the intensity of her face, felt the intensity of the touch. Then she brought the bandage around and back under the other arm and across his chest and over the shoulder at the point of injury.

Each unroll of the gauze made her more aware of him, too.

Although it had been hard for Connie to keep her hands steady, she skillfully continued wrapping, finally fastening it securely at the chest.

Every single movement had been cautiously and painstakingly slow, yet both of their pulses were racing.

When she was done, Connie put her arms to her side and slightly stepped back to signal the task was complete. She continued to stare into Mike's eyes. Sheer willpower kept her from reaching out and touching his chest again. They stood less than an arms-length apart.

Watchful of her reaction, Mike reached towards her and intimately placed his hands around her waist. He ran his palms from her waist, up her side and then back down again, as his eyes followed the touch of her curves. Then it came to rest at her waist.

Her body tingled at his touch. He gauged her reaction. Her eyes pleaded with him to continue.

Their breathing became shallow. His arms drew her even closer to his body. He hesitated slightly, but Connie did not resist.

His gaze fell to her mouth. Suddenly Connie couldn't breathe.

He drew her closer against his exposed chest.

She tipped her head slightly.

His warm breath mingled with hers. She expected his kiss to be demanding, but when his lips touched hers, it was so light, so incredibly gentle. There was no rush, only an incredible sweetness that made her lips part, wanting and expecting more.

As the kiss deepened, his hand sensually slid from her waist to the small of her back. She melted in his arms.

She was lost in a world of sensations.

Connie sighed.

Hearing the sigh, Mike was brought back to the realization that this was Connie in his arms. ADA _Connie Rubirosa._

The kiss was interrupted as Mike pulled back.

He stepped back, bewildered. He looked down and tried to calm his nerves.

Confronted back into reality, Connie abruptly opened her eyes and took a deep breath. It took her some time to regain her composure.

Both waited until their breathing was even again.

Mike looked at her astonished face.

"I'm sorry, Connie," he tried to look contrite, "—I didn't mean…"

Connie didn't understand what had just happened.

Flustered and embarrassed, she turned and fled the room.

_(This was challenging to write and I hope I did right by them. Please let me know)_

_Sorry to say, I am putting this story on hiatus for now…but there's a reason…_

_I am in a holiday mood! It's Christmastime! Yay! I've completed writing a Christmas story about Mike and Connie. It'll be a quick read. I hope it will put you in the Christmas spirit. I will post it in a couple of days. Please review that one too, and I will post the story faster!_

…_Then this story will continue! _


	11. Chapter 11

It's awkward for Mike and Connie.

Chapter 11

Connie arrived in her suite and slammed the door. She placed her back against the door. Her hand flew up to her lips. She could still feel the pressure of the kiss.

She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. It had been sweet and sexual at the same time. She had felt her entire body responding. But then he stopped. Why? Had he realized he made a mistake?

Stupid me, stupid me, she thought. What was she thinking? Didn't she learn her lesson with Marcus Woll? Now another boss? Are these the only type of men she is attracted to? What is wrong with her?

Instead of a scarlet letter "s" on her chest, the entire alphabet should be branded on her, she thought.

But it was Mike. He wasn't just any boss. He was…more. He was funny. And intelligent. And sincere. And handsome. The list seemed endless. From the minute she saw him there was a connection.

She walked away from the door and sat on one of the French chairs in the suite. She placed her elbows on the mahogany table and put her head between her hands.

But these are her impressions of him. Mike was the one who had ended the kiss. How did Mike feel about her?

Mike was back in his suite, looking out at the view of the New York City skyline.

The silhouette of buildings displayed a compact and overwhelming collection of international business structures. He half focused on the view, lost in thought.

I'm her boss, he thought. Didn't he tell Jack they were co-workers, not lovers? He had made a promise to himself that he would not cross that line. They needed to keep a professional relationship. But she had been in such intimate proximity to him And the way she had gazed at him with bold intensity. It was too inviting. She looked sweet and alluring. Then she touched him, and his resistance dissolved. At that moment, he had acted on his desires.

And that was his mistake, he determined.

After all, he had to work with her daily. Will he ever forget the image of Connie in his arms? The feel of her soft curves? How could he even look at her again without desiring her?

Connie must have two impressions of him now. One, as a scum bucket and two, a sleaze bag, he thought wryly.

Could they ever get back to where they were before?

Morning had arrived and both would know the answers to their confused feelings.

The ride to Rikers Island had been awkward.

Neither knew how to broach the subject of their shared embrace last night. They drove on, with Connie behind the wheel again.

Thankfully the ride would not be long, but they needed to fill the air with words. Mike instead explained how he had talked with Bernard and Lupo late yesterday night. The good news was they were able to find the name of Volchek's cellmate at Rikers, a lifer, by the name of Rowdy Smith. He gave her a little background on Smith.

The detectives said they also did some research on the new office intern Tim Vilsky and found, in fact, they couldn't find much in way of a background, so that information alone implied he must be under some type of alias. They would need extra time to research his real name.

The pieces were all starting to fall together.

After relaying the information, Mike felt he should at least attempt to find out Connie's feeling about what occurred at his suite last night.

"Did you want to talk about what happened yesterday?" Mike stared out the window as he sat on the passenger side of the Mercedes.

Connie couldn't even begin to deal with the myriad of feelings she was experiencing. She wanted to tell him how long she had been hoping something would happen between them, yet knowing that it could not happen as long as they worked together. Plus admitting this might open her up to rejection again.

"Maybe we should deal with this afterwards. I think it's enough to concentrate on trying to stay alive."

Perhaps this was for the best, Mike thought. They needed to stay focused on the task before them. But it was difficult to get the image of Connie's caress out of his mind. They had shared an intimate moment together. He enjoyed the kiss. Enjoyed it was an understatement. All through the sleepless night he kept replaying it in his mind.

He must somehow refocus. Right now they needed to convince a convicted criminal at Rikers to inform on his former cell-mate.

"So what will be our cover when we meet Rowdy Smith?" Connie broke the silence. "

"What cover?" Mike asked back to reality, "We'll be playing the parts of two cold, professional lawyers named Mike Cutter and Connie Rubirosa."

Any other time, Connie would have thought Mike was being subtly satirical, but right now, in this situation, she felt annoyed.

They were quiet the rest of the short drive.

They were alone with their own thoughts.

The prison room at Rikers Island was quiet and isolated. Barred doors and windows added to the atmosphere. The room was purposely devoid of any distractions except a table with four chairs. The light above had been arranged so interrogators had a full view of the inmate's facial expressions.

Rowdy Smith was led in. He was big, but soft in the body. His shaved head glistened from the overhead lighting. Tattoos were seared on his upper arms. He had a long beard. He gave no indication of recognizing neither Mike nor Connie.

"Who the hell are you two and what do you want?" he asked, disinterested.

He flopped on the chair. He looked at Mike and then when he saw Connie, he eyed her hungrily up and down.

I need a shower, Connie disgustedly thought.

Mike introduced the two of them by name.

Rowdy gave a malicious smile, showing crooked and stained teeth.

"So you those two damn lawyers Volchek's always talking about," he smirked, nodding his head back and forth.

"Care to elaborate, Mr. Smith?" Connie asked.

"With you, anytime, Babydoll," he said.

Mike's face showed anger and he started to rise, but Connie held him back and indicated for him to stay in his seat.

Despite being repelled by Rowdy Smith, she leaned forward.

"Mr. Smith, " she said in a low, steady tone, "I must ask that you show a little respect for New York prosecutors. The reality is you are in here. We are out there. We are capable of many things."

"You don't scare me none," Rowdy's voice was gruff, "I'm already serving a life sentence with no possibility of parole. You've got nothin' to bargain with, nothin'."

"Let's just say we have your entire record," Connie maintained in a somewhat threatening tone, "We know about your ex-girlfriend, your mother, and your cousin Roy, among others. You wouldn't want them to be inconvenienced in the future if, let's say, they received a traffic ticket or got a DUI, would you? Because looking at their past records, they have run into these type of minor offenses often before. But they've always managed to slip by with just a slap on the wrist. But that is in the past. I think in the future, they may have a rough road ahead. And if they commit even bigger violations such as, oh, maybe drug possession or assault, I fear they may get the maximum sentence possible."

"H-e-y. You threatenin' them?" Rowdy's bravado was gone. He turned to Mike, "Is this Bit—lady lawyer threatenin' them? Cuz that means that she's threatenin' me, too."

Mike pretended to look surprised. "What threats? I hear no threats. It's just conjecture. I don't think we can say for certain what will happen to your friends and family in the future. She's just pointing out that you are in here with no power for what goes on out there. Just think about that, Mr. Smith."

Rowdy looked from one lawyer to another. Neither one looked away.

Rowdy put his head down, thinking.

"Okay…let's say…let's just say," he began as he looked up at them again, "that I've got some info…like I know where Volchek is stayin right now."

"Go ahead, Mr. Smith," Mike encouraged, "we're listening."

Rowdy shook his head, "No, no no. I ain't just gonna tell you. No siree. You gotta do somethin' for me first."

Mike and Connie looked at each other.

"Is it something illegal?" Mike asked.

Rowdy gave his ugly smile again, slightly astounded that the two lawyers were even considering his idea.

"Nah. Just gotta do me one favor. I can't do it 'cuz like you said, I'm in here," he looked at them both, "but both of you are out there."

Mike and Connie looked at each other again.

"Tell us what you want, Mr. Smith," assured Connie.

.

_A review would make my day!_


	12. Chapter 12

Their undercover skills are improving. Somewhat.

Chapter 12

Rowdy's ex-girlfriend was Sheila Marshall. According to Rowdy, the two have been estranged for 5 years. If it were up to Sheila, they would never be in contact again. However, they had one connection that would keep them together for the next 13 years. A little girl named Brooke.

"Sheila, here, now, she's crazy," Rowdy was trying to explain to the two lawyers, "When I went to prison, she would have nothin' to do with me and swore I would never see my daughter again."

Rowdy dug into his pocket and brought out a worn, folded photograph of a tiny newborn.

"That's the last I've seen of my little girl," Rowdy said, pointing to the old photograph, which was faded and had been almost ruined by a large white fold mark down the middle, "…This here is when she was first born. Sheila and I was good then, not no more. I want to see my baby girl, but I ain't got no rights, being in prison and all."

"But what can we do?" asked Mike, "We cannot possibly bring a five- year- old here."

"I ain't asking that," Rowdy looked so beaten down, that Connie almost felt sorry for him, "I'm just askin' for a new photo of her, that's all. I want to see what she looks like now. I want a new picture I can hang in my cell to look at."

Mike and Connie traded looks. The request didn't seem that difficult to accomplish.

"Mr. Smith," Connie said, "If that is all you ask, I think it may be doable."

"Well, it ain't that easy. Like I said, we ain't on good terms. I'm tellin' you, Sheila's a …" he glanced over at Connie, "…a selfish lady. Just cares about herself and not my Brookie. She just watches her damn TV shows all day. Claims that one day, she's gonna be famous like them, too. That's why she dumped me. I was holdin' her back, she says. I'm dead to her. She won't give me a picture. That's all I'm askin' for, one picture. Then I 'll give you that address."

Mike nodded, "We'll see what we can do."

It didn't take long for Mike and Connie to arrive at Sheila Marshall's residence. She resided in the Ridgewood area, a neighborhood located in the borough of Queens.

A densely settled neighborhood, Ridgewood was known for its large amount of brick- constructed tenements. Many low-income families of diverse backgrounds resided in the area.

It took awhile for Sheila to answer Mike's knock.

She opened the door slightly, due to the latch still on top part of the door.

"Yeah?" she said, "I ain't in the mood to buy nothin'."

"Good day, Miss Marshall," Mike said in a cheery voice, "My name is Mike Cunningham and this is my associate, Connie Ramirez. We are reporters for the _Ridgewood Times_." He quickly flashed his district attorney ID card.

"Newspaper folks? Hold on." Sheila shut the door slightly. They could hear her sliding the latch free and the door opening widely. "Come in!"

With her spandex leggings, spiked heels and bouffant long hair, Sheila looked like the lost cousin on the show _Jersey Shores_. She adjusted her hair as she led the two into the living room.

Sheila took a good look at the covert reporters.

"Ooh…the two of you look like movie stars! You two kinda have that high class look!" Sheila exclaimed as she assessed Mike and Connie, "why, both of you are good lookin' enough to be on the cover of a magazine!"

She led them to the living room

"I read _all_ the magazines. Now you…" she looked at Mike, " can easily be on the cover of GQ magazine—I read intellectual magazines like that, you know. Yeah, on the cover! Of course, it would have to have been 15 years ago."

"Thank you, I think." said Mike.

"And you," said Sheila, as she focused on Connie, "You have real potential! You could be on the cover of Glamour magazine, right now. Trust me." She then looked down at Connie's hand, " But I see you ain't married, yet, eh? Me neither. I think us pretty girls have a problem 'cuz we don't know how to pick the right kind of guy. We always pick ones that ain't good for us. Am I right?"

Here it comes, thought Mike, as he prepared himself for a snide remark by Connie.

Connie looked evenly at Mike.

"I'd like to think I have excellent taste in men," she simply stated.

She had never seen Mike blush before.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, can we get on with the interview, please?"

Once they were seated, Mike explained that he and "cameraperson" Connie were doing a report on raising a child alone in the borough in Queens. Sheila would be one of five single parents they were interested in interviewing.

For the next hour Mike asked Sheila a series of questions. Sheila loved to talk about herself and gladly answered all his questions. Throughout the interview, Connie would use her Blackberry to snap candid pictures of Sheila from different angles.

When Sheila wasn't looking, Connie would press the "delete" button.

Sheila was enjoying all the attention.

The interview was completed. They were anxious to leave but needed the picture of Brooke.

"Well, I think I have enough for a story," said Mike, "Now, I think the photographer would love some pictures of your daughter."

Sheila tilted her head suspiciously.

"Don't think there's no need for that," she said skeptically.

Mike and Connie exchanged looks. He took a deep breath.

Mike slammed shut his notepad and put his pen away.

"Sorry to waste your time, then," he coldly said as he started to leave. He turned to Connie, "We need to head out to the next single household."

"W-what?" Sheila said as he watched Mike and Connie head to the door, "Wait!".

Connie backed him up. "Didn't we tell you it is a story about the two of you?" she said to Sheila, "That means we need both of you, you and Brooke."

Mike reached for the doorknob. Slowly.

"Then take a picture of the two of us together!" Sheila said, trying not to sound desperate, "You don't need a picture of her alone, for a story about the two of us, right?"

Mike was going to take a chance and do a little reverse psychology.

"Oh, so you're the type of mother that _needs_ to be the center of attention? Am I getting it right? We can only focus on you? You can't even share the limelight with your daughter? I get it. We can only take a picture if _you_ are in it. I'm sorry. I just don't see a story here."

"I ain't like that—you'll see!" exclaimed Sheila as she yelled, "Hey, Brookie!"

A slightly chubby girl appeared from the kitchen. She was clutching a little doll. Connie could see the resemblance to Rowdy.

"She's adorable," Connie said.

"Yeah, it's just too bad she looks like her no-good father," Sheila said, "Wait til he reads my story. See, I _told_ that no-good, lazy swine that one day I'd be famous! There, now, she's here. Go ahead…snap away!"

Connie quickly took two pictures. They had what they wanted.

"So when will I see this story about me?" questioned Sheila when Mike and Connie were heading for the door once more.

"We're leaving now to give it to our editor. These pictures are good; so good, in fact, I think he will soon be hanging up on a wall somewhere. In fact, I guarantee it," Mike promised as they headed out the door.

That answer suited Sheila just fine.

An hour later they presented the pictures to an overjoyed Rowdy Smith. He quickly scribbled the address to Thomas Volchek's latest residence. Tomorrow they would be able to go with the police to his place.

Mike and Connie were making progress.

As they drove back to the hotel, their conversation had become stilted again.

They were physically tired and mentally drained. Even though they had succeeded on their mission, they were not in a celebratory mood. They had no idea what to say to one another.

The evening was turning into night.

"You took a big chance, playing with her ego," Connie finally said as they walked back to their hotel room, "she could have just let us leave without the photos.

"I don't think that would have happened," reasoned Mike, "She's one of those women that is easy to manipulate."

"Unlike others that you know?" Connie sounded irritated.

Dead silence.

They were at their respective hotel doors.

She inserted her key into the lock. They hadn't discussed dinner plans.

"Uh, listen, Mike, it's been a long day. I think I will just order room service and have dinner alone, read some, and then just go to bed, if you don't mind."

"Oh….yeah…sure…that's fine. Don't worry about me. I'll make do." He forced a smile that showed his dimples.

His dimples. She had forgotten about his deep dimples. Connie almost regretted her decision.

Mike dejectedly entered his suite. The room was dark, due to the lateness of the hour. He was about the flip the light switch when he heard some noise coming from the bedroom.

Connie entered her suite and kicked off her shoes. She didn't even take the time to turn on the lights. As she entered her bedroom, however, she saw a shadow on her bed.

_Mike knew he was not alone._

_Connie knew she was not alone._

_._

(Please review.)


	13. Chapter 13

Mike and Connie meet the intruders.

Chapter 13

Mike stood and listened in the dark from the living room suite. The noise was definitely coming from the bedroom. He could hear the desk drawer opening and someone riffling through it.

Mike took out his gun from its holster and with both hands, pointed the barrel up in the air, his elbows bent, close to his body.

He moved soundlessly, with his back against the wall, pausing before he reached the doorway of the bedroom suite.

Slowly he leaned a little through the doorframe to view the bedroom. The small table lamp in the bedroom revealed a tall figure in a wool black coat and knit cap. The intruder's back was to Mike. The person was taking something out from the drawer.

With his back to the wall, Mike pivoted so that his entire body ominously covered the doorway, legs spread apart, facing the intruder. His gun was already adjusted straight out from his body.

"_**If you want to live, hands up in the air**_**.**" Mike boldly stated.

The intruder raised his hands with the items in his hand and turned around.

"Cutter." He simply said.

Mike lowered the gun.

Cyrus Lupo lowered his arms. "I was just about to leave you a note." He put the pad and pen down.

It was good to see a familiar face. Mike smiled. He went over and the two exchanged friendly pats.

"And where is Bernard?" Mike asked.

"He's over at Connie's suite."

"Uh-oh," said Mike. Lupo looked puzzled.

"What do you mean?" Lupo wanted to know.

"Just that. Uh-oh."

There was a loud knock on the door. Mike looked through the peephole and opened the door.

Bernard burst into the room.

"Get her away from me!" he blared, as he strode in with Connie trailing behind him.

"I said I was sorry!" Connie repeated in an apologetic tone as she dragged in her bat.

"Sorry just doesn't cut it!" announced Bernard, "Not when my safety's involved!"

"What about _my_ safety?" Connie defended herself.

Mike folded his arms and watched the exchange, clearly enjoying it.

Lupo looked questionably at Bernard, and then Connie.

"Something happened?" Lupo asked.

Bernard frantically nodded.

"Yeah, Yeah. I was tired from all the overtime we had put in at the station, right? So I thought I'd take a nap on the soft, fancy French bed," Bernard recounted, "I opened my eyes just in time to see Bam-Bam McCave-woman here, ready to take a swing at me… with a baseball bat… if you can believe it!"

Mike solemnly raised his hand. "I can believe it."

"Hey, you think _that's_ bad," countered Lupo, "What about me? I go through the trouble of doing research on my free time. Then I drive all the way out here. After all this extra work, I come here only to be confronted by the cowboy in the white hat who draws his gun and basically declares, 'This town ain't big enough for the two of us!"'

The two detectives tried to look indignant, but both were obviously trying not to chuckle.

A pause in the room.

"So is this your expressive way of saying both of you are happy to see us?" Mike countered.

It was Bernard who first broke out in a grin, "Overjoyed, actually. We could not be happier that the two of you are safe and sound."

"And I thought it was the bad guys we had to look out for!" Lupo added.

Connie laughed happily and flung herself at the two detectives. It felt so wonderful seeing the two, she thought.

It was like being with family again, as she gave them a big hug.

Mike watched the three of them as they greeted each other.

It was gratifying seeing Connie so happy, but Mike felt a sense of sadness because it had been directed at Lupo and Bernard. Not him.

For they still had an air of uneasiness between them.

The four decided to dine in the plush hotel bistro downstairs.

At the table, Lupo and Bernard explained they were still busy on the Manhattan Serial Killer case but were able to do a little research for Mike and Connie on their downtime.

"Get this," Bernard said, "seems your little DA office worker bee, Tim Vilsky, is in actuality Timothy Volchek".

"So he's Volchek's brother?" Mike asked. The detective nodded.

Now they had confirmation on whom the two suspects were.

Mike explained that he and Connie had discovered Volchek currently resides in a town called Coopertown, which coincidently, is the next town over from Dargerville. There may be a chance the gun they are looking for will be there.

"Whoa, Big Gun- Guy," Lupo said to Mike, "You're not planning on going up there and getting Volchek on your own, are you?"

"Well, detective, do _you _have the time to get Volchek?" asked Mike.

"We don't, but you can't just cowboy your way in and take whatever you want," pointed out Bernard, "Even if he's guilty all the way. You've got to do it right." You'll need to obtain a search warrant in order to get his gun. Wait. Why am _I_ telling the two of _you_ this?"

"And getting a search warrant won't be that easy, either," continued Lupo, "that's a lot of fast talkin' you've got to do for a judge to issue you one."

"He's right," said Connie, "We don't want Volchek to get off on a technicality due to an illegal search. I'm not even sure if at this point we have enough for a judge to sign a search warrant."

"I know of one judge who will sign a warrant for us." Mike had a plan.

"Who?" Lupo asked.

"Judge Sorotsky, of course," said Mike.

"But he's in Dargerville, and Volchek's in Coopertown. Can he sign a search warrant for another county?" Bernard asked.

Connie nodded with confidence.

"New York state law, article 5690.20," she began to recite, "states that a search warrant issued by a town court or village court may be executed pursuant to its terms in the county of issuance or an _adjoining_ county."

The two detectives were dumbfounded.

"Really?" asked Bernard, "You have that memorized on the tip of your tongue?"

Connie shrugged, "I've always theorized, the more random law articles you can cite, the higher chance of conviction!"

Connie never ceased to amaze him, Mike thought.

"You two just better be careful," said Bernard now changing the subject, "I wish we could stay to help keep you safe…but we can't."

"Connie," asked Lupo, looking concerned, "How are you handling everything? You sure you'll be alright?"

"You don't have to worry about her," Mike spoke up for her, "she has shown she can more than take care of herself!"

For the first time that day, Connie looked pleased at him.

"You don't have to say _that_ twice!" Bernard agreed, "I've witnessed it first hand!"

The meal was finished and the check was on the table.

"I propose a toast." Mike announced, lifting his glass, as the other three tablemates raised theirs in the air.

"Gentlemen—" Mike nodded to Lupo and Bernard with his glass, then made a gesture to Connie, "—and of course, Connie… here sits four good friends in search of a little _law_ and _order_. May they find it soon."

Simultaneously the glasses clinked loudly together.

That night Mike and Connie both slept better, knowing they would soon get the killers.

Early the next morning, they drove back out to the Sorotsky farm.

Connie drove once again.

"You do realize," said Mike looking at the road straight ahead, "that we have to once again become boyfriend, girlfriend in front of the Sorotskys?"

"That's right…" she drove on, deep in thought about their awkward situation. She wasn't feeling totally comfortable with him, now.

"Look Mike, truthfully, it's awkward for us. The Sorotsky's are observant people. They will notice something…has come…between us. They might ask questions we can't answer. Maybe we could just say we broke up," suggested Connie. The minute it came out of her mouth, she regretted it, "No, no, I didn't mean that! Mike—"

"I don't know what you mean," said Mike in a flat tone Connie could not interpret, "but I think we should keep the status quo. Everything should remain as before. After all, it's just a role we're playing."

Recently it seemed as if any sentence they say to each other would become misconstrued.

Both of them were relieved when the Sorotsky's farm came into view.

Upon arrival, the farmstead looked as it always had: a chaotic accumulation of farmhouse, barn, fences, machineries, farm animals and crops.

Except the place seemed eerily quiet.

The Judge and Gladys were nowhere to be found.

_(Please review)_


	14. Chapter 14

The Sorotsky's learn the truth.

Chapter 14

Mike and Connie looked in all directions of the farmstead. The good news was they found no sign of a struggle or that the couple had left unwillingly.

"It just seems so strange," Mike said glancing all around, "They rarely both leave the farm. Even if they have to go in town to shop, one usually stays here."

Wait a minute…wait a minute," Connie was inspired, "…is it Saturday today? Didn't they mention some kind of dance at the community center in town?"

"That's right," said Mike, "Maybe they left early to help set up."

Downtown Dargerville consisted of one long street lined with small businesses. All the business structures looked venerably dated and preserved for prosperity. Adjacent to the local grocery store stood a weathered gas station with old styled pumps.

Other businesses opened were the hardware store, the local beauty parlor, a small law office, and the county courthouse. The entire business strip of downtown Main Street reflected a different era when life was simpler.

Sandwiched between the beauty parlor and the law office was the Dargerville Community Center.

Mike and Connie both breathed a sigh of relief when they recognized the Judge's pick up truck parked next to the curb in front of the community center.

The community center was like a large auditorium. Town volunteers were scrambling around with last minute duties. Already the place looked festive, with various intricate leaf decorations hung in the autumn colors.

Decorated haystacks and cornstalks were strewn around the room. A large banner read "Dargerville's Annual Fall Dance" in freesyle letters. Music could be heard from the raised wooden stage, as the small country band was practicing the songs they would play for tonight's event.

The Judge was spotted up on the ladder, stringing some more decorations. Gladys was walking across the room with a cornucopia centerpiece, when she spotted Mike and Connie entering.

Gladys put the centerpiece on the table and clasped her hands together in merriment.

"Land sake's alive, you two DID decide to come!" She ran over and gave each a warm hug,

"Sam, stop that work. Look who's come for the dance!"

The Judge climbed down from the ladder and joyously greeted the couple.

"Mary Beth, come over here, too!" Gladys said as a plain looking woman from the sheriff's office stepped forward, "This here is the couple we told you about."

"Oh, yes, I remember him from a few years back when he came in looking for some records at the Sheriff's office," she said as she looked shyly at them, "This here your wife?"

They were _not _expecting that question.

Mike and Connie stood in embarrassment, speechless.

We've _really_ got to work harder on our undercover skills, Connie thought once again.

"Wife? Oh, that'll come, soon enough!" Gladys insisted.

"And perhaps one day I'll be the one to perform the ceremony!" the Judge added with a wink.

"I think you two may be getting ahead of yourselves, but I am still glad to see the two of you!" Connie laughed.

"You two are staying for the dance, aren't you?" asked Gladys, "Did you come to help?"

"Actually," said Mike, "We need to talk to you and the Judge in private."

Mike and Connie decided the best way to handle the situation was to tell the Sorotskys the truth.

"Oh, of course!" Gladys stated as she shooed the three of them to one of the smaller offices down the hallway.

The room they entered was a small meeting room. It consisted of a long table surrounded by 8 chairs. A bulletin board hung on one wall. The room only contained one window with blinds.

For the next half an hour Mike explained everything that had occurred between him and Connie, from the day of the shooting in the parking garage to now.

Connie watched the Sorotsky's faces as Mike told the story. It went from concern, to relief, to surprise, to disappointment.

"So am I to understand," the Judge began, "that all this was a ruse, this pretending to be a couple? You two are not together?"

"No," Connie replied, a little too quickly.

"It's true, we are not a couple," Mike explained further, "Connie is a professional associate from New York City."

The Judge and Gladys looked crestfallen.

"Please, don't look at us that way," pleaded Connie, "we just didn't want to alarm you with our…situation."

The Judge and Gladys looked at one another.

"Well," reasoned the Judge, "the important thing is that you two are safe."

Gladys did not say a word.

"The problem is," explained Mike, "We need proof of Volchek's guilt. Perhaps this proof will be hidden at his place of residence. We'd hope to find the evidence with this search warrant."

He took out the search warrant Connie had originally packed away with the Dargerville files and had last night filled out.

The Judge thoroughly read the search warrant. He looked at Mike and then at Connie.

"I trust you two know what you are doing," he said, as he got out a pen to sign.

Gladys reached out her hand.

"Don't go signing that." she insisted, to the surprise of the other three. Her ever-present smile was gone.

"I just want to get this straight," said Gladys, looking directly at Mike and then Connie, "we open our home, our hearts to the two of you. And now you want to use us again in order to get a search warrant?"

"No! Gladys, it's not like that at all!" Connie was pleading.

"I think that is exactly what it is. I feel like an old fool." Gladys said, as she got up to leave.

Silence followed as she left the room, while the other three looking questionably at each other.

The Judge put away the pen and handed back the search warrant, unsigned. "Sorry, but I have to listen to the Missus here."

As Gladys walked out in the hallway, she encountered Mary Beth on her way back to the community center's main hall.

"Gladys, are you alright?" asked Mary Beth, "You seem upset."

"I am fine, dear," Gladys said, although she clearly was not. "Nothing worth fussing about."

Mary Beth watched Gladys walk away until she had disappeared. Mary Beth's outward appearance seemed calm, but inside she was simmering.

City folks, Mary Beth thought disdainfully. First that Thomas Volchek and then this Mike Cutter. At least Thomas gave her a little attention. He even welcomed her when she brought those homemade brownies to him a couple of times in prison. But that Cutter guy never gave her the time of day. Both times. And then he dared come back to town, lugging that hoity-toity woman with him.

Mary Beth took out her cell phone from her dress pocket.

She remembered Mike Cutter for another reason. Tom Volchek mentioned his name a couple of times in prison. About how he will one day get even with Cutter for putting him in prison.

Maybe if she tells Tom that this Mike Cutter character is here in Dargerville, she might be able to get on Tom's good side again, she thought as she dialed his cell phone.

Dargerville would no longer be a safe place.

_(I know, not the most exciting chapter, but it's because I am setting it up the next chapter—which will be for all you romantics out there! I am excited to post that one!)_

_Please review!_


	15. Chapter 15

Mike and Connie heard the music in their hearts.

Chapter 15

The Judge, Mike and Connie had returned to the main hall of the community center. They spotted Gladys taking out the paper cups and plates to put on the table.

Connie told the two men she would privately talk to Gladys.

"Gladys," pleaded Connie when they were separated from the men, "Believe me, when I tell you, we didn't use you. All the feelings we felt about you and the Judge…they were all very real."

"Oh, I realize that, I suppose. That's not really what I am upset about"," explained Gladys half-heartedly, as she continued to position the paper items, "I just didn't like that you had to lie to us."

"I already explained to you why we had to—"started Connie before being interrupted.

Gladys shook her head.

"It's not the lying _then_, it's the lying _now_." Gladys looked straight at Connie.

Connie was dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

"You're telling me the two of you are not a couple. I've seen the way you two look at each other," Gladys said evenly, "I know an act when I see it. And that was no act. No, indeed. I've never seen two people more attracted to each other than you two."

"Gladys," Connie blushed and tried to change the subject, "You have the right to believe whatever you want to believe. We tried to explain to you the reality of the situation. But we didn't come back to discuss our relationship—or lack of it, I should say. Right now we need a signed arrest warrant. What can we do to get you to allow the Judge to sign that arrest warrant?"

Gladys stopped placing the plates and cups on the table.

"There is one thing that will get me to change my mind," Gladys announced.

"What's that?" Connie asked, trying not to sound frantic, "We'll say anything, do anything. You just name it."

"Hey, Charlie!" Gladys yelled behind her to the band as they started to pack up, "Before you go, you think you can play one more song for the road?"

Connie stood, confused.

"For you, Darlin', anything!" yelled Charlie as he nodded to the rest of his bandmates. Theband went about re-setting up their keyboard, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo. The young singer, Charlie's daughter, once again faced the microphone.

"You just say when!" Charlie good-naturedly added.

Gladys took Connie's arm and guided her across the room to where the Judge and Mike stood conversing with one another.

"You need a signed search warrant," Gladys proposed to Mike and Connie, "I need to prove a point. You two will dance one dance. Then I promise I'll let old Sam here sign your warrant."

Mike and Connie looked at each other as if they heard wrong.

The Judge nodded in agreement at Gladys' request. "Seems like a fair trade to me. One dance is all the Missus wants. Not much to ask. No need to feel embarrassed, either. The volunteers have gone home for lunch."

Sure enough, the only people present in the dance hall at this moment were the band members and the four of them.

The prosecutors exchanged looks again, not quite knowing what to think about having to dance together.

A decision was made. Mike motioned Connie towards the band area.

"…For the search warrant," he said in a low voice, and then added, "-which, by the way, is not the most romantic sentence I've ever said to someone."

That made Connie smile.

They quietly strolled to a place in front of the band.

Upon arrival, they stood facing each other. It had been a long time since they had felt at ease with one another.

In the meantime, Gladys signaled to Charlie and the band.

Mike gave Connie a little nod of encouragement.

The instrumental first bars of the song started to play.

At the sound of the first note, Mike bowed gallantly to Connie. It was such an old fashioned gesture.

She found it charming.

Connie reciprocated with a slight curtsy.

Mike reached out his arms. Connie hesitantly stepped forward. He settled a hand on her waist, the other one, reaching high for her hand.

Connie became aware of the positioning of his hands, and at first felt a bit uneasy at his familiar touch.

It brought back other memories.

"Connie, it's okay. It's me." assured Mike, "_Just move with me_."

At his reassurance, she looked into his deep blue eyes.

In his eyes, she read trust and affection.

The instrumental intro had finished and the vocal part of "Could I Have this Dance?" began.

The singer had a low, heartfelt voice.

Their first initial steps began assuredly, right on the first beat.

_**I'll always remember, the song they were playing**_

_**The first time we danced- and I knew**_

_**As we swayed to the music and held to each other**_

_**I fell in love with you…**_

He swept her in a fluid circle.

They both found it easy to follow the simple rhythm of the country waltz.

With total reliance, she allowed him to lead her around the dance area. Connie was in awe of Mike's dancing as he held her tenderly and glided her around the room.

He never took his eyes off her.

Feeling more relaxed, she placed her other hand on his shoulder.

That tiny move made Mike break out in a smile as they re-connected with one another.

She smiled back.

They were both reflecting back on the kiss but this time they were remembering the feelings involved. How wonderful it felt being together. Like they were now.

As the song played on, it was as if they had always danced together.

Connie at last felt comfortable in his arms. She tipped her head back to look at his face.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" she asked, then, "Wait. Don't tell me. Your dad went to all the army dances and taught you in his free time."

Mike laughed.

_**I'll always remember that magic moment,**_

_**When I held you close to me.**_

_**As we moved together, I knew forever,**_

_**You're all I'll ever need**_.

As the song continued on, they danced as if they were the only two people in the entire world.

Their dancing turned from long, fluid movements to more intimate, enclosed ones.

He tightened his hold on her. She willingly allowed the distance between them to lessen.

Every place his body touched hers felt warm and inviting.

"Connie," Mike's voice sounded soft, yet urgent, as he whispered in her ear, "Please don't be upset with me...You are breaking my heart."

Overwhelmed with his humble confession, Connie separated slightly from the hold to glance at his face.

His lonesome expression reflected the words he spoke.

Connie's heart melted.

She molded again into his body, totally captured by the moment.

Their entire bodies caressed as they danced cheek to cheek. They moved together in thought and spirit. He protectively wrapped his body around hers.

It was a perfect fit.

He had her answer.

He could feel her heart beating as fast as his. They clung to each other, listening to the music and savoring the closeness of their bodies.

_**Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?**_

_** Would you be my partner every night?**_

_** When we're together, it feels so right**_

_** Could I have this dance for the rest… of… my… life?**_

Too soon, the song came to an end. But Mike and Connie danced on, unaware that the music had ended. The swaying of their bodies was the music they were in tune with.

All the silent awkwardness was gone.

As she gently leaned back and forth, enclosed in his arms, she knew from the way he held her, how he felt. _She had not mistaken his attraction for her after all_. This wondrous moment revealed how he truly felt. How she felt about him.

The Judge coughed.

Mike and Connie embarrassingly realized the song had already ended and separated. Despite the reluctant break off, they continued gazing at one another, totally enraptured with one another.

It was obvious they were consumed with romantic feelings for one another.

"Get your pen out, Sam," Gladys elbowed him from the sidelines, "I've just proven my point."

Everything seemed right in the small town of Dargerville.

However, things were not right in the adjacent town of Coopertown.

Thomas Volchek snapped shut his cell phone closed.

He now knew the whereabouts of Cutter and Rubirosa, thanks to that nobody that worked at the sheriff's office. He made a call to his brother.

Little did those two lawyers know they only had hours to live, he thought with a malicious smile, as he got into his rental car.

.

_(Uh-oh…I hope I didn't hype this chapter so much that it disappointed…I was surprised how readers were saying they were looking forward to this! Well, I tried.)_

_Please review…_

_ We are coming to the end! (sob)_


	16. Chapter 16

Mike and Connie confront their adversaries.

Chapter 16

They were back at the Dargerville Diner.

Connie enjoyed this quaint diner. She loved how people came in here for a quick cup of coffee or a little gossip and stayed to pass the time of day.

A nostalgically charming town like this certainly had its advantages, she thought, before turning her attention to Mike.

He sat at the counter next to her, looking as attractive as ever. When he saw her watching him, he smiled, making her heart soar. She smiled back.

There seemed to be a warm glow about both of them. The image of their dream-like dance was present in both their minds.

The awkwardness had disappeared. In its place was an emotional connection.

It was early dinnertime now. They had decided to join the Judge and Gladys for the dance after all. Mike and Connie were looking forward to tonight.

At least in Dargerville they could relax and be themselves.

Sally, the waitress, came over.

"What'll you two have today?" she asked as she took out her pad.

Mike and Connie looked at each other. They both knew.

"The turkey chili!" They said in unison. After all, they couldn't disappoint Lupo, now, could they?

Earlier, Gladys had taken Connie shopping for a dress tonight while the Judge and Mike went to the small country store. Connie was explaining her day.

"Gladys found me a dress, but insisted that it would clash with my bat. So as a way to wean me from my so-called 'wood addiction' –her words, not mine-she ended up buying me a wooden bracelet." Connie related.

She brought her wrist up and modeled the wooden bracelet for him.

Mike tried to keep a straight face, "Very wood-erful! And …so… am I to believe that you will be beautifully bat-less this evening? I may not be able to recognize you."

Connie smiled, thinking how much she enjoyed being with Mike.

"So what did you two handsome men do while Gladys took me shopping for a dress this afternoon?" she asked.

"Old Betsy needed a new milk pail." Mike said, and then paused. "Now _there'_s a sentence you don't hear me say in the courtroom everyday!"

Connie laughed.

"You do realize we have a lot to talk about when this is all over," Mike said in a serious tone.

Connie nodded.

"Let's hope this nightmare with Volchek ends soon," She said.

Mike reached out his hand and gently squeezed her hand to soothe her fears. That simple gesture felt as intimate as any touch.

"We should be safe here," assured Mike, as two bowls of turkey chili were placed in front of them, "and we have the signed search warrant. Tomorrow we'll go with deputies to Volchek's residence. Then it will be over."

Little did they know that two men in a dark rented car had almost reached their destination of Dargerville.

After their meal, Mike and Connie went back to the Dargerville Inn to get ready for the dance tonight.

Mike walked her to her room door.

"I'll see you in an hour," Mike said… "and Connie?" he added, before she entered her room, "If you need me, just knock. I'll be there for you."

She nodded and shut the door. Once she was inside, she leaned her back against the door, and this time she had a happy, faraway look about her. She relived the kiss from a few days ago and then the magical dance. She felt like floating.

Connie took a nice warm shower. It felt wonderful. She felt wonderful.

She was dressed, humming to herself. She stood in front of the mirror.

As she brushed out her hair, she could hear the sound of two car doors slamming shut from outside the bathroom, outside her room, out in the parking lot.

Something didn't feel right.

She looked out the doorway of the bathroom and could see the outside doorknob of her room being turned left and then right.

Someone from the outside was testing her room doorknob.

One word came to mind. Danger.

Quickly Connie slammed the door of her bathroom and locked it. She put her ear against the door. She could hear the front door being forced opened. A pause. Then quietly closing again. He or they were inside her room.

Oh God. Oh God. She grabbed her bat, located next to the shower stall.

But how would this help her if he or they have a gun? Panic entered her mind.

Don't scream. She put her head down to think, tried not to get scared. Her mind needed to stay clear.

Her head went up. She first needed to alert Mike.

Unfortunately, she had left her cell phone out in the bedroom.

How could she let him know she was in trouble?

He had said to knock if she needed him.

If there was _ever_ a time she needed him…

Looking down, she stared at the bat in her hand. An idea formed. Gripping the bat tightly, she pounded the opposite end of the bat as hard as she could against the wall that she shared with Mike's room.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

She held on to her bat. She waited. And hoped that Mike would know.

The malevolent-sounding footsteps had already reached the locked bathroom door. It sounded like more than one set of steps. She was alarmed. _There were two of them here_. And they were just outside her door.

Someone was testing her bathroom doorknob left and right. It would be only a matter of seconds before they burst in.

She decided she wasn't going down without a fight. She would not cower. With the bat in her hand, she faced the bathroom door.

Suddenly through the barrier of her bathroom door, she heard the sound of her front room door bursting open.

He's here! She silently squealed to herself, as she fought to maintain calm. He'll take care of those two. She had complete confidence in him. Wait. Why is she waiting for _him_ to do something?

"**Drop it, NOW**!" She heard Mike's commanding voice through the closed bathroom door. He had forcibly kicked opened her front door.

Connie had convinced herself that Mike needed her help.

Connie bravely swung open the bathroom door.

She quickly assessed the situation.

The first thing she saw was that Volcheck and Vilsky stood next to the bathroom doorway, with Vilsky situated closer to Connie's door.

Both Volchek and Vilsky had been facing Mike when he had burst through Connie's room door.

They had raised their guns at Mike, but became startled by the sound of Connie flinging open her door.

Inadvertently she had created a distraction for Mike.

Vilsky now turned towards the opened bathroom door and spotted Connie.

He stretched out both arms and lifted his gun at her. She was staring down the barrel of a gun.

From there, everything happened so quickly.

She heard a gun go off.

But the gunshot sound was from a distance, and not directed at her.

Simultaneously with the sound of the faraway shot, she had pulled her bat back and with all her strength, she swung at Vilsky's outstretched arms, which had been holding his gun.

"Yeo-oww!" Vilsky cried out as his gun misfired and fell out of his hands. He bent over and held on to his arms, grimacing in pain. Connie quickly let loose another strike, this time to his side, which brought him to his knees.

In the meantime, Connie could hear an unfamiliar voice cry out in pain when the gunshot sound had subsided.

Volchek was seen bent over just outside her doorway, babying his bloodied hand, which earlier had held the gun.

"God damn you!" Volchek bellowed at Mike, "You've shot my hand!"

His younger brother, Vilsky, was balled up on the floor now, letting out a few expletives of his own.

Connie reached back into the bathroom, stretched her arm to grab a towel, and callously threw it at Volchek. He gave her a death look as he took the towel to wrap on his hand.

Connie maneuvered around the two injured men. Mike had kicked the brothers' guns away from them. With another towel supplied by Connie, he picked up the dropped guns. He placed them on the table for future use as evidence.

He pointed his gun daringly at the brothers, although he knew they were no longer a threat.

"Stay down!" Mike advised.

Connie went over to the two would-be killers who were in obvious pain. She situated the bat directly behind Vilsky's back, thus forcing him to lay down on his stomach.

"He said, **Stay down," **Connie's voice was insistent"….because, right now, we can either call the _ambulance_ _or_ we can call the _morgue._ It's your choice."

She kept the bat right on Vilsky's back as he complacently laid flat, moaning in pain.

Volchek watched his brother and surprisingly also decided to lie down, despite also in agony, holding onto his bloodied, throbbing hand.

As Connie determinedly kept her bat close to Vilsky's back, she looked up at Mike.

He had tilted his head at her and playfully mouthed, '_the ambulance or the_ _morgue_'?

Connie shrugged.

In the distance they could hear the sirens of the Dargerville police.

It was truly over.

.

_(Last chapter coming up! Be sure to read!)_

_Please review!_


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue

** One week later…**

It was a regular day at the New York DA's office. Like clockwork, office employees sauntered back and forth between the various oak paneled offices.

Mike and Connie were once again in Mike's office going over various cases as other state employees went home to their families.

Mike had ordered Greek food and the cartons of gyros, rice pilaf and lemon chicken soup were scattered throughout his desk, as well as a caseload of papers and files.

It was almost like last week never happened.

Except it had, and Mike and Connie recalled it all.

Instead of looking at which cases needed paperwork to be filed for searches, seizures or arrests, they were looking at each other.

It had been an incredible adventure for them.

One they would never forget.

They sat directly across from each other, with only Mike's desk separating them.

"Let me ask you something," Connie said, as she tried to read his face, "Did you _really _mean to shoot Volchek in the hand so his gun would fly out if it? Are you _really_ that good of an aim?"

Mike shook his head, "Not really… who could be that accurate?" he questioned, as he shrugged his shoulders.

Connie figured that. She sipped her coke.

Then Mike leaned forward.

"I was actually aiming for his trigger finger," he admitted in a low voice, as he reached for his soda.

Connie gulped too loudly. She put her drink down and looked at him.

He casually took a sip.

Guess she'll never get the truth from him. She had a feeling, though, that his aim _was_ really that good. It made her smile.

"Speaking of deadly aims, will I ever get my bat back?" Mike wanted to know.

"Oh…didn't I show you?" Connie asked as she lifted her briefcase and opened it up, "a gift from Lupo and Bernard."

She reached in and showcased a police baton to Mike.

"Your bat has now gone portable." She announced, "A newer, sleeker model, wouldn't you say?"

"_Very_ nice." said Mike, looking impressed.

"Lupo and Bernard were even nice enough to get it engraved," she said as she handed it to him.

Mike examined the bat, expecting to see her name engraved on the wood.

He made out the words 'Bam-Bam McCave-woman'

They both exchanged smiles, happy with being back at the office.

"Don't forget, we still have to finish that talk," Mike mentioned as he leaned back in his chair, observing her. He loved watching the varied expressions from her beautiful face.

Since their little caper, he now had new admiration for her, as she was not only lovely and intelligent, but courageous as well.

"Never the right time," Connie said still smiling, "We've been swamped since we've returned. I don't know how we'll be able to clear all these cases."

They just couldn't get away from their work.

Yet they were not worried, as long as they could do it together.

For now, everything would return as before, but with a deeper understanding.

Both assistant DA's were hardworking, driven individuals who excelled in their careers.

Being a New York Assistant District Attorney required a lot of sacrifice to be successful. Neither one was ready to give up what they have already accomplished.

They both knew their professional careers would change if they forged ahead with their relationship.

One day they would explore the emotional impact of how they felt about one another, but for now, they would take it slowly.

They just didn't need the complications now.

Right now it was enough to know they had an unspoken mutual attraction for one another.

Their personal relationship would just have to slowly blend in with their working relationship.

Currently, Mike and Connie have been busier that ever upon return to the DA's office. They successfully prosecuted Volchek and Vilsky. It only took one hour for the jury to reach a verdict.

The two brothers were convicted of a total of 11 counts of attempted murder, including aggravated assault, aggravated battery, and possession of a weapon during the commission of a crime. Sentencing to be determined next week.

Mike put aside his plate of food.

"Well," said Mike leaning forward, looking at the stack of folders, "I think it's time we get back to work!"

He rummaged through the large stack of files and found the one he was looking for. "After reviewing these cases, I think we should be prosecuting the Hamilton case first because—"

"**What… the… hell !" **They could hear Jack McCoy's bombastic voice all the way down the hallway of the DA's office.

Obviously he had returned back from Washington D.C.

"Here we go," said Mike with a wink to Connie, as she smiled at him.

Jack entered Mike's office. His presence seemed to take over the entire room.

"What the hell happened while I was away?" Jack wanted to know. In his hand he held a stack of "While You Were Out" pink slips.

"What do you mean, Jack?" Mike feigned ignorance; "We've been busy prosecuting a case all week. _And_ we got a conviction."

Jack stood next to the desk facing Mike and Connie.

"So you were just prosecuting a case," he repeated, "_Just_ prosecuting a case? Then care to explain all these messages that were left with my secretary while I was gone?"

Jack looked at his stack of pink messages. As he read each message, he would discard the read ones on the table of front of the attorneys.

"From Detectives Harper and Wong," Jack begun, "_Your EADA sustained_ a_ minor gunshot wound. Will follow up_… From New York Downtown Hospital: Y_our EADA left hospital, wounded, and without consent. Please call."_

Jack looked confused at "gunshot" but continued. "From Detectives Lupo and Bernard: _Cutter and Rubirosa_ _at destination unknown; Female is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Please advise… _I hope they were joking."

Mike shrugged, "They've never shown a sense of humor to me."

Jack looked down at the next slip, "Now here's an interesting one from our insurance company_: New_ _intern has filed for workmen's comp. Claimed office worker attacked him with a bat. Please contact HR."_

Connie tried her best to look innocent, " A bat? That sounds serious."

"I'm not done," Jack blustered, as he looked at the next message, "From the Dargerville Police: _Car chase ensued here. We suspect your DAs have a strong dislike for radiators. Please call ASAP… _And I can't make heads from tails with this one from Rikers: _Convict Rowdy says_ _thank you to his buddies, Mike and Connie. Please pass on."_

"I can explain that one. He's trying to say that friendship is important," Mike stated.

"To which I agree," added Connie.

Looking frustrated, Jack continued ."From Dargerville Courthouse_: A reminder from Judge Sam Sorotsky_: _Dance-a-thon next week. Your EADA and AD may be interested_. _They will need to RSVP"_

Jack looked puzzled.

But he read the next slip: "From the Dargerville Inn: _We will be forwarding a cleaning bill to you caused by your attorneys. Unable to get all the blood stains out of carpet. Please call with insurance_ _information."_

"Blood stains can be tricky," agreed Mike.

Connie nodded in agreement.

" Now wait… the best is this last message," Jack read this one carefully, "from the Judge of the New York State Supreme Court: _Congratulations on another well-deserved win for your office. However, in the future, hoping the __**intended victims**__, __**case investigators, law enforcement officers,**__**and prosecuting lawyers**__ will not be __**the same two people**__. Other people on earth are qualified to do those various jobs."_

Jack put the last slip down.

"**Well**?" he folded his arms, waiting for an answer.

Mike and Connie looked at each other.

"I think we may be able to get this all sorted out," explained Connie, "But it will take some time. Meanwhile, won't you join us for dinner, Jack? We have plenty of food."

She scooted out the chair next to her. Jack curiously watched as she removed a baseball bat from the seat and gestured for Jack to sit.

Jack gazed intently at the bat.

"Is that a bloodstain on the bat?" Jack asked, pointing at a red spot on the bat.

Mike sat up to scrutinize the bat. "Oh, I think that's just ketchup from the fries."

Jack surveyed all the food spread out on the table.

"**What fries**?" he demanded to know.

Just a normal day at the DA's office.

.

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I just wanted you to know that I really did start out doing a thriller. I got sidetracked once Connie got hold of that bat! Just couldn't stop with the kooky side. Hope you enjoyed it anyway! I _really_ had fun writing it!

_(I know, I know…I never did resolve the relationship with Mike and Connie, did I?_

_There's a reason for that too!) _

_Stay tuned for Mike and Connie's next adventure, "Motion to Dismiss"_

_I had so much fun writing this, I just had to continue on a different case for these two romantic thrill-seekers! This one, I think, will be "grittier". It's a missing persons case with a love triangle! (at least that is what it is in my head!)_

_._

_Also keep a lookout for an addendum to my Christmas story "A Simple Beginning". I will post this one very soon. It is a short three- chapter sequel, about Mike and Connie's New Year's Eve celebration in New York City. Hopefully, it will make you look forward to the New Year!_

_(Enough of the commercials already…)_

_._

_Special thanks for those wonderful readers who consistently write reviews! You are the reason I keep writing!_

_Law and Order readers are the greatest! Let's keep this site going!_


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